


Allegiance

by Trovia



Category: E.R., X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon Rewrite, Child Abuse, Crossover, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mutant Hate, PTSD, Psychic Abilities, Psychological Trauma, Psychology, Secret Identity, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-30
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-20 21:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trovia/pseuds/Trovia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray doesn't need the Professor to tell him that you can't outrun your past. But that doesn't mean he'll stop trying - even when his mutant powers destroy the life he has built in Chicago, and William Stryker targets his old team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_County General Hospital, Chicago. One year ago._

“Uhm, Ray, you’ve got a visitor.” Ray’s hand was stuck in the chest of a gun shot victim trying to squeeze a heart back to life when the trauma room door opened. Jerry had stuck his head in.

“Get the paddles ready…”

“I’m a little busy here, Jerry!”

“On three!”

He pulled his hand out to make room for Pratt, and there was that second of breathless waiting while nothing – nothing – nothing happened. The room sprung into motion in tandem, well-rehearsed chaos.

“Alright, another round of epi…”

“He’s bleeding out…”

“I still can’t find the bullet!”

_Hello Ray._

There was nothing startling about the warm, calm telepathic voice that had suddenly popped into his head - like the world had quieted and stopped for a moment. Ray was too busy to do anything about it, anyway. He gritted his teeth, slapping the bloody glove into the right place around his wrist and waiting for Pratt’s okay to dive back in.

“Can’t really tell you why, but the guy looked kind of important…” Jerry sounded uncharacteristically uncertain.

_This is a really bad time to mess with the staff, Professor,_ he thought back.

The heart between his fingers still wasn’t beating on its own. Then again, they’d pretty much known it was a lost cause when they'd cracked open the man’s chest. And Professor Xavier probably knew that, or he wouldn't have interrupted.

It had been three years since they had last met. Ray couldn't muster any surprise that his old mentor had managed to show up at the most inconvenient time. He'd always had a habit of walking in when Ray was busy.

* * *

“It’s been a long time,” Professor Xavier said, repeating Ray’s thoughts. Maybe it was because he'd read Ray's mind. But maybe it was just the most obvious thing to say, so Ray forced himself to give him the benefit of a doubt. Three years had been enough to get him used to having his mind strictly to himself. The Professor had followed him into the nurses' lounge, and he could hear the door quietly falling shut. He could hear the smile in Xavier's voice, too. “You look good. Jean would be proud if she could see you like this, Ray.”

“Like what? A real doctor?” Ray didn't quite manage to keep the smirk off his face. He’d led the Professor into the room ready to be angry at him, but the unexpected praise had a somewhat pacifying effect against his will. That hadn't changed, either. Crossing his arms in front of his chest in discomfort, he went to look out of the window. It was raining again. “What are you doing here?”

“Can I not visit an old student?”

“Like that has ever happened before?” There wasn't any venom to the reminder, though. He hadn't exactly been abandoned, not when the Professor still faithfully called him every birthday, and both Hank and Jean sent the occasional email. The school had played no small part in accounting for his med school fees, as well.

It had been he who had left and who had wanted to be left alone for good. It had been he who had wanted a new life, one that he could live on his own terms.

Professor Xavier had always respected that. He imagined the old man behind him to bow his head when he conceded the point. "Scott and I came to Chicago to talk to a prospective student. Scott is currently meeting with her parents. I couldn't let the opportunity slide to visit you." There was genuine warmth in his voice. "It's good to see you doing work at a place that is obviously welcoming you."

_Sure. As long as they don't know what I am, that is._ Ray took a deep breath, rubbing his face. There was the reason he avoided talking to the Professor. It made him think of things he'd rather never think about. "Not a lot to do beside the County since the guys left for L.A."

"Alas, if you should ever get tired of it..." Ray turned to look at the Professor, his body stiff with defiance, but Xavier just chuckled - laughing at him a little. "I have to offer, Ray," he said without apology. "Don't act like we wouldn't always be happy to have you back on the team. There will always be a place for you - and especially now that Hank has left us for Washington, I know that Jean would be grateful for some help in her lab."

Ray shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not a scientist."

He wasn't a super genius like Jean and Hank, never had been, never had wanted to be. He'd never wanted to be a doctor for their altruistic reasons, either, he'd just wanted to make money and, maybe, prove that he could be something other than he was supposed to. Likewise, he wasn't a hero.

The trickle of telepathic contact ran down his spine before the Professor's words could form in his mind, and he reacted by instinct, slamming a shield into place to keep them out. Telepathy had never stopped squicking the hell out of him.

"Oh Ray." Xavier sighed.

"I'm fine on my own," Ray said, turning back to the window again so that he wouldn't have to face Xavier. Still raining. "That's the next part of the speech, isn't it? 'It's a gift, not a curse; you have to continue your training; this life can't be good for you, no matter you're making plenty of money and are actually good at your job...'"

His voice had grown louder with every line. He'd always had too much of a temper, even Professor Lehnsherr - _Magneto_ \- had said. But Xavier cut him off, experience having taught him that you'd make a Barnett listen only if you matched them in decibels. "Yours is a psychic gift at its core, Ray." Ray's mouth clamped shut despite himself. The Professor spoke on, quiet but fierce. "Nevertheless, you chose a profession that forces you to work with people projecting suffering and despair. You moved to a state known for its extreme anti-mutant attitude when your power could rival even that of Storm if you allowed it to grow." His voice was growing softer again now that Ray had shut up. "I will always respect your choices, but, Ray, I can't help but worry."

"It's just force fields. I don't use them for anything," Ray brushed it off. As Zoe's father had shown, being beaten up without fighting back still wasn't hard - you just had to lie there. "I'm not like 'Ro. It was never that hard to control. I need to focus to turn it on, not off."

"Still it is force fields that could bring down this whole building if directed at the right walls."

"So what?" He twirled around again, his voice rising. "Why should I _want_ to bring down the building? I _like_ the way things are, I don't have a reason to fuck them up by using my powers. It’s _working._ Nobody here has ever had any idea that something is wrong!"

The words echoed in the sudden silence. Immediately, Ray wished that he could take them back. A look of sorrow had passed Xavier's face, and Ray knew what he thought. _It's what your father would have said. But there's nothing wrong with you._ But just because his father had said it, that one night years ago that he didn't think about anymore, didn't mean it was wrong.

And he never thought about that night. He didn't.

_(A brain damaged baby left to die alone, not normal enough for his parents to want it. A deaf kid beaten up by the police. Windows breaking into thousands of pieces from a force field pushing forward and Joshua Barnett, screaming, screaming that no son of his was--)_

The world stopped. There was a tense moment of pause, filled with words unspoken.

The room was eerily quiet, his heart beating way too fast, and Ray was suddenly paranoid that someone could have heard. Except then, he remembered that nobody heard Xavier if he didn't want it. He'd probably put out a suggestion to the staff to not interrupt them, as well.

It was pretty easy to believe in human kindness if you could dodge all the risks with telepathy.

_Calm down._ Ray forced himself to take shallow breaths, directing his mind elsewhere behind the protection of his psychic shields - the only way he ever used his secondary power.

The Professor's face didn't change, though it was obvious when he sank into himself just so that he'd chosen to retreat. Everything about this man was subtle; how he could admire Xavier just as much as any X-Man, Ray had never quite figured out. "Come have dinner with us after the end of your shift, at least," Xavier said. His eyes said he honestly wanted it to be a peace offering. "We won't be discussing any business, I promise. Scott would love to see you again."

Ray sighed tiredly. He knew he couldn't say no, especially when he'd really like to meet Scott, who wasn't much older than him, though so much more a son to the Professor and his cause. So much more of a dick, too, they'd both thought of each other through a good part of the two years he'd spent in Westchester, but they'd grown up. Last time he'd put aside his hang-ups to visit Xavier's had been when Scott and Jean had gotten engaged.

His eyes drifted past Xavier to the County E.R. The Admit desk was in sight through the window, the eternal buzz of activity never slowing down. It sucked just a little, struggling with the job he'd decided was for him after all, dealing with assholes like Gates. Dealing with _her_ , who still wouldn't look at him whenever she could prevent it and that _hurt._ But it was still his life. He'd made it all up by himself when everybody had thought he was slightly deranged to believe that he could, and he intended to continue improving it.

Which meant Xavier better take him to a restaurant where nobody would see him with Scott. Physicians would have an easy time figuring out what those glasses were for.

"I'll be out of here by eight," he said.

Xavier smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _There was such a thing as words that might as well have been punches._

Ray pointed at the glass in front of him to request a refill. Then he drained it in one go. _Neela and Gates._ He couldn't remember how he'd ever thought it would all end well.

People were laughing behind him, chatting away and twirling across the dance floor. Abby looked stunning in her wedding dress, though from the way Hope was glowing, one could have confused her with the bride. It was probably ridiculous to have let himself be caught up in the celebratory mood of the wedding. It wasn't a mood that had a lot to do with the kind of person he wanted to be in the first place. But still. He'd had a feeling that tonight would be the night. He'd had a feeling that things would finally clear up between them.

Boy, and he'd been _right._ Things had cleared up plenty.

Running his hand through his hair again, Ray conceded that he was both too drunk to still be supposed to be here, but, also, to give a shit about it. Nothing left to do at this point but get plastered and numb the impact.

But it was never that easy.

Someone had walked up to stand next to his stool at the bar, and Ray groaned to himself when he heard the familiar voice. "Hi, I'd like a dry and dirty Martini and a Tequila Sunrise, please..."

Great. Exactly what he'd needed to make his night.

It was asking too much for Gates to just not notice him, or let it go.

"Hey Ray. What's shakin'?"

A startling pang of pressure built up in his head, trickling like an electrical shock, then resolving. Ray balled his hand into a fist. He hadn't been pissed off enough to consider using his powers since med school. Then again, Gates had always been special.

"Dry and dirty?" He snorted. "I should have figured that one out.

"Asshole," he muttered.

The mere thought of losing control _in public_ because of that nitwit sent a special spark of rage down his spine. Ray wasn't sure if his voice had betrayed it, but the world was swaying too much for him to dwell on it.

Maybe it was better to focus on his drink.

Gates smirked. "Hey, Ray, I don't know if you noticed, but there's a party going on here. Everybody's having a good time, dancing and things... So any time you feel like, you know, jumping in, just get off your little stool..." He gesticulated at the bartender, then pointed at Ray. "Hot coffee for him! Keep it coming, fast and black, won't you?"

The intern turned to walk away, satisfication about having won the petty exchange coming off him in waves. Everything about him screamed provocation, too much of it to not be an act. Ray shook his head. A part of him continued to be amazed that that guy was for real, and that he couldn't just laugh him off. If it wasn't for Neela...

If it wasn't so fucking personal.

He'd lost her to _that_ guy, for fuck's sake. Not to just another man, but to _him._

"You're a real prick, you know that?" he called after Gates.

The energy was tickling him again, pressure building up from the urge to assemble and charge it. Xavier was wrong, because it wasn't that he couldn't control it. He could control it just fine. It was the urge to control it right in Gates' face that was so overwhelming.

Gates turned around. Adrenaline and alcohol were clouding the world. Yet the fact that Gates had just been waiting for a way to pick a fight was clear on his face, coming through hard. Like a bully in a schoolyard fight, Ray thought unkindly.

 _Don't you know what I could do to you?_

Gates crooked his head. "What's your damage, Ray?"

"Whoa, guys," Pratt's voice was saying somewhere close.

Ray stood up from his chair. He didn't sway - he was quite proud of that. Looking at Gates again, he decided to relish the opportunity. "My damage is that you walked into our E.R. like you owned the place. Can't say I appreciate that." He smirked, still not quite ready to take Gates for full. He'd take the bait anyway, though. It seemed like just the best idea he'd ever had. _Just come at me. Just try. You've had it coming for every time you fucked up in the E.R. For every time you treated Neela like shit._ "You want to leave a mess wherever you go, that's up to you. But there are two things I won't let you screw around with. That's patients’ lives and..."

There was that pang of pain again, right in the middle of the sentence.

Gates raised his eyebrows. "And what, Ray?"

He smiled without warmth. "And her."

"Hey, I take care of her, you sulky little pissant."

 _I can't believe I'm only doing this now._

It was the last coherent thought before drunk anger fully took over, coloring his vision.

"Yeah, like you took care of Meg."

There was such a thing as fighting words. Ray knew it before they'd even left his mouth. There was such a thing as words that might as well have been punches. All color had drained off Gates' face.

For a second, nothing happened. Then he flung himself at Ray.

Pratt and Morris were lunging forward in the corner of his eye like they'd seen it coming, putting themselves between them.

But Ray had moved already.

The world reeled forward; everything happened too fast. His hand was up before he could stop himself - no controlled and precise move like Lehnsherr had once taught him, but more of a vague upwards wave, far too easy to prepare - and there was screaming. Pratt was swept off his feet with a shout of surprise, and Gates - Ray's eyes were burning into Gates, all focus - had flown through the room, crashing against a wall in the distance. Ray swayed. The power within him had merged into the psionic field, pressed forward and imploded in one swift motion - more of a blow, less of a shield.

People were on the ground around him, nobody standing before him for several feet. Just like that, the music died down.

Somebody screamed, high pitched, and stopped.

"What the _fuck,_ " Pratt groaned, trying to pick himself off the floor.

There was a moaning sound from Gates, moving but not lifting his head.

Ray swallowed hard. He turned, eyes seeking out Neela.

She was staring at him from across the room, white as a ghost despite her dark skin, not an ounce of understanding on her face.

His ears were suddenly ringing.

There was no wedding celebration anymore. Everything had stopped. Without looking, Ray knew that everybody was staring.

He'd done this.

Too fucking drunk to remember how to do a roundhouse kick, but never too drunk for this.

 _Abby._ Strangely, that was the first clear thought on Ray's mind. _I shouldn't have done that to Abby._

To Abby and to his own life, that carefully erected one that he'd planned on clinging to and making come true more. The one where telling himself that he wasn't a mutant almost made it real.

 _I might have killed him._

It was suddenly hard to keep his balance; his head was feeling light.

There was a crash when Morris, realization dawning on his face, tried to scramble away from him on all fours but hit a fallen chair. He scuttled around it, hurrying off into safety.

The sound of polished boots on the dance floor, and Dr. Kovac was bending over Gates to softly call his name, eyes never leaving Ray - caution learned in a war zone.

It was too much to take in. Ray was in motion before his conscious mind caught up.

"Ray!" Pratt - an attending's order to stop.

People rushed out of his way; he knocked over a chair but barely noticed. The broad doors of the hall were coming closer, and seconds later, a wave of fresh cold air hit him, blowing through his suit and clearing that terrible silence in his head away.

There was no way he could deal with this. There just wasn't. Ray kept moving, not minding where he went. _Fuck._

* * *

It had to be hours and at least two bars later, although Ray hadn't thought to keep count. He didn't want the night to end, he wanted to drown in scotch and to forget. Nondescript buildings growing out of the darkness he passed by, the freezing night air was starting to clear his head again and he really didn't want that to happen. He knew he should go home. He knew he should fish his cell out of his pocket and check why the fuck it kept buzzing.

The police had probably told people to try and contact him.

He stumbled when crossing the street, swearing at himself for thinking that it could be Neela, hating himself for grabbing the damn thing and still reacting in his guts when her name lit up on the display. _Fuck. Goddammit. Fuck._

It buzzed again, sliding out of his hand, and the strain of bending over to grab it made him stagger again. Ray closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath, before looking at it. Still her name. Maybe police was standing right next to her. Maybe she'd say, _Why did you do that to me_ although they'd told her to stay calm, and, _I thought you were human, at least_ and he'd--

Headlights were suddenly blinding him. Horns were hoinking. Ray twisted around, staring at the truck rushing towards him, but it was already too late.

His last coherent thought was of his powers - _you can stop this you can't use them again you can stop it remember what--_

The figure came twirling out of nowhere, glimpse of white hair fanning, pushing him off the street with her full weight. The screams of the truck became overwhelming and Ray's back connected, hard, to the heavy concrete on the sidewalk. The truck rushed past, getting the hell out without slowing down, already gone.

The slim woman who had crushed him to the ground had scrambled to loom above him before her weight had even made an impact, her motions startling and swift.

"What do you think you are doing!" she shouted, stark dots of white pupils the only fixed point in the dark, African accent heavy. "You idiot, Threshold, that truck would have killed you if I hadn't found you! You could have used your powers to stop it! You pigheaded---" It became gibberish at that point or rather, Ray's muddled brain supplied, probably Swahili. Thunder rolled and exploded above them in a moment of localized fury. It just figured that the atypical flare of temper unreeling at him startled him more than the sudden change of weather. The weather, he was still used to.

Xavier's cavalry had arrived.

Ray groaned, attempting to get up and giving up on the thought when the world tilted dangerously. His stomach was revolting.

"Are you hurt?" 'Ro asked, voice low and clipped. "You would deserve to be."

He tried to get up again. "Just drunk."

"The more things change." The idiom sounded weird coming from her, much like the whole situation felt. He had to have scared the living crap out of her.

The clouds above them were thinning out rapidly. 'Ro had turned her head upwards as she spoke, clearing them away to show the moon-lit sky again. When she looked down, her eyes had changed back to their normal color, and she had calmed herself by what had to be iron force of will. She could have been any woman - if a really angry one in a weird uniform - tilting her head.

"What are you even doing here?" Ray muttered. Like he didn't know the answer already. It was what the X-Men did, after all, it was what they'd even built Cerebro for. If mutants were in need, the X-Men came to help them out. It was an almost perfect repetition of the first time around except it was 'Ro instead of the professors.

And hopefully, except Gates wasn't dead. Ray's stomach churned again.

"The Professor led me here with Cerebro. He said there was an accident at a wedding," 'Ro said, as if it explained it all. It probably did - the Blackbird could make it to Chicago in less than an hour. Then, "You could have stopped that truck with your powers."

Ray thought of wiping that smirk off Gates' face, clouded memory of that drunk decision. _Accident._ He couldn't even call it faith that Xavier had in him, it was just ridiculous all over. The force field had been perfectly deliberate, and it had felt really good at the time. It still did. The bad decisions always had.

"I could have hurt the driver if I'd used a force field."

'Ro just gave him an exasperated look. She'd been there, Ray remembered - the day he'd decided to leave the mansion for good, shouting match with Scott and all, daring them to try and stop him - daring them to say he couldn't make it on his own.

Instead of arguing, though, 'Ro just extended her hand. Well - Ray guessed there was nothing left to argue about, not after tonight. He considered her hand for a moment before accepting, letting her help him up. He'd fucked it up.

Time to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Have you seen this mutant?"_

Ray dropped the inventory clipboard onto a tray. It was the only sound in the room; there should have been an echo, but the alloy of the infirmary walls absorbed it. Again, he had a look around. The room was a research lab gone field hospital rather than a place to patch up bruised knees, except that it was neither underfunded and understaffed, nor drowning in patients without medicare. It was nothing like any place he'd ever worked at.

It didn't look like any patients would be coming forth, any time soon.

A shudder ran down his spine, the sound of his steps swallowed up by the silence. Eric Lehnsherr had left around the same time Ray had started college, almost ten years ago, but everything about the basement laced in steel still screamed of his presence. Lehnsherr had always made Ray uncomfortable, but just in that way adults did if they wouldn't take your shit. It was crazy to think that he was rotting in a plastic prison now for trying to stage a coup d'etat. He'd been great at teaching physics.

Then again, it was crazy that there was a Lockheed SR-71 parked in a hangar no fifty feet from here. It was crazy that he knew how to _fly_ it. Playing soldier in a fight to give more rights to freaks and...

Ray suddenly was overcome by that terrible need to get out and run as far and fast as he could. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't _have_ to be here. There should be some other place, any place where he could go.

At least, a place where they said "I told you so" aloud instead of patting his shoulders and showing him to his old room, the one they'd kept for him as if they'd known he'd fail.

 _Family is where they have to take you in._

The sudden voice behind him made him jump.

"So you're the new guy, huh?"

"Whoa," he said. "Didn't see you there."

The girl that had materialized in the middle of the room smirked. She was the picture of a teenager happiest when she could best an adult, hands buried in the pockets of a screaming yellow coat, noisily chewing and popping a pink gum bubble. Maybe thirteen, she was a mix of a child's soft features and a teen's bravado.

"And hey, I'm not new," Ray added. "I used to go to school here." Kids at least he could deal with. Xavier claimed they projected emotions more honestly and thus appealed to his empathy, but Ray chose to believe they were just easier to satisfy. "I'm Ray Barnett. Call me Ray."

The girl glanced at his hand cautiously before taking it. "I'm Jubilee. Are you really a doctor? You don't, like, look like one."

"Why's that?"

"It says _Hail Satan_ on your shirt."

"Come on, it's a great shirt. The Dead Kennedys went on tour with that shirt." He grinned at her. "So, it's nice to meet you, Jubilee. I've been a doctor for three years, so I think I'm qualified." He'd have been a R4 two months from now, had been hoping they'd offer him an attending spot along with Abby in the end. No need to think of lost chances, though. It was over. He'd dumped his cell into a waste bin in Chicago. "Did you come to get medical attention, Jubilee?"

"Nah, maybe next time. I just thought I'd say hi. Everybody says you gonna be part of the X-Men, but Dr. Grey says you're just gonna be the new doctor because she's too busy." As Jubilee spoke, he'd picked up the inventory list again and put it back on the shelf where it belonged. She followed him curiously. "Mr. Summers says he'd be okay with you on his team although you're a bit of a prick."

Ray forced himself to chuckle. "Aw, I'm sure he only meant it in the best of ways."

So he was pretty sure that Scott hadn't told Jubilee that to her face; probably she or one of her telepath classmates had snooped. It still annoyed him to hear that the conversation had even taken place, though. He'd made it pretty clear that he'd come back because he'd had to leave Chicago, not because he'd suddenly developed an overwhelming need to fight for mutant rights. Westchester was just the place to go if you screwed up, he thought bitterly.

A way to escape from the look in people's - Neela's - eyes when nothing good could come out of facing them anymore, anyway.

"So, Jubilee," he said, trying to focus on the labeled boxes on the shelf. If he was supposed to take care of the kids during emergencies, he better knew where everything was stashed. It was still creepy, though - most of this equipment he only recognized because Clemente hadn't been able to shut up about it. "Tell me about you. How long have you been here?"

"Oh, a couple of years," she said. "I, like, lived in a mall for a while before the Professor found me. As a kid. But it's better here. Better food. So you really gonna be an X-Man, huh? Miss Munroe told us all about your powers. She says they're pretty cool and powerful, but you don't like testing them out because you're so careful. What's your call sign?"

"It's 'It's none of your business,' because I'm not going to be an X-Man." He smirked at her on his way over to the next shelf, laughing at her when she gave him a look. His call sign had been _Threshold,_ sounding just as ridiculous to him as the whole idea of using one overall. _Sid Vicious, Pat Smears_ \- hell, yes, _Threshold_ \- no, thanks. "Why were you living at a mall?"

"Aren't you supposed to be asking me what my powers are?"

God, there it was again - the reason why he hated this place. He hung his head for a second, taking a deep breath. "What are your powers, Jubilee?"

"What?" She sounded puzzled. "Aren't you curious?"

He forced himself to stay patient. "What are your powers?"

There was a moment of calculating pause. "I make fireworks," Jubilee said. "I project pyrotechnic energy plasmoids." It was recited in that smooth way that came from saying it a lot even if you weren't sure why you should bother. "Want to see?"

"In a room full of medical equipment? That would be a no."

"You're weird." It was half an accusation, half a statement of fact.

It was obvious that Jubilee was a nice kid, in that obnoxious way that Ray always knew to appreciate in that age group. But his apartment in Chicago and his band and the ever-busy County were gone, replaced by a basement built by Magneto and a team of so-called superheroes waiting for him to just jump at the chance of playing along. Replaced by a kid asking about things he'd spent the greater part of his adult life trying to forget.

There were things 'Ro could have said to him in Chicago. She could have reminded him that plenty of mutants lived an open life even if it was hard and dangerous - like Hank going off to have a career in politics, Jean and Scott getting engaged and talking of children. But she hadn't, because 'Ro had barely survived being beaten to death by her village when she was twelve. And Ray--

 _(Fifteen again and all fight draining out of him because his classmates staring at him in awe and shock and fear was one thing, but his father stepping into the living room and his face hardening was another. There was no fighting him here, no dignity, just begging and recoiling from--)_

He could taste the adrenaline in his mouth all over again, feeling bile rise.

Making himself turn and face Jubilee, Ray saw she had jumped onto the exam table, dangling her legs and looking at him innocently while awaiting a reply - a bizarre sight, in contrast with the memory. The girl's jaw was still at work on the gum. He didn't have to wonder if Neela had tried calling him again, Ray tried to remind himself. It wouldn't change a thing.

"It doesn't matter what people's powers are, Jubilee," he heard himself say. "I know that's what everybody here likes telling you, that it's a great thing to be a powerful mutant, but they're getting it wrong, alright?" Lehnsherr would have said it the loudest. Xavier and Scott and Jean liked to act like they were so different, but weren't. But at least Ray wouldn't have to face Neela here, or Kovac rightfully looking at him like Ray was about to have a go at him with an axe. Nobody here was preparing Jubilee for that, but thinking it away didn't make it real. He himself had just been reminded of that the hard way, and it _hurt._ "The fact that you have a mutation has nothing to do with who you are. You're what you want to be. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise, okay?"

"Yeah, you're weird," Jubilee said.

Then, "The Professor says your mutation sucks for being a doctor like Dr. Grey's."

 _Geez._ "I'm pretty sure the Professor doesn't even know that word." More harshly than was necessary, Ray pointed at the door. "Now get out of here before somebody starts looking for you. I'm pretty sure kids aren't allowed on the lower levels without an injury."

"Weird," Jubilee mouthed at him and he managed to quirk his lips in answer, but she was already moving, years of experience with workaholic scientists having taught her when to let go.

Blindly, Ray reached for a chair to roll closer, slumping down on it and leaning onto the exam table to bury his face in his hands. He really didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to be doing here. Except for how everything else he'd tried had failed. He and 'Ro had gone back to his apartment to pick up his clothes and guitar; he couldn't believe there'd been nothing to take but his guitar. All his other possessions were just based on that nice little lie he'd cooked up. Work stuff. Pictures. Knickknack Neela hadn't taken along when she'd left.

Careful digging had revealed that Gates hadn't filed for assault, so the one way in which he wasn't facing a worst-case-scenario was in that he wasn't dealing with a lawsuit. Or a dead body. _God..._

 _("We should have drowned you at birth," Joshua Bartlett said. "We should have..."_

Ray took a deep breath, trying to stop himself from shaking, willing the images away.

Here he was, stuck at a place that owned a military jet, responsible for stopping the world's greatest terrorist, when the big guns where nothing he - any mutant - should ever be allowed access to. Kids like Jubilee propably _dreamed_ about being an X-Man.

He was still shaking.

 _Ray. Are you alright?_

The abrupt intrusion made Ray want to scream from frustration, hit one of those fucking dampening walls or kick one of those damn fancy shelves. Instead, it just made him shudder all over. He didn't _want_ to be here. He'd never wanted to be anywhere less.

 _Something is happening at the White House,_ the Professor continued in a steady mental voice when he didn't offer a reaction. _Come to my office immediately. The others are already on their way._

 _It has nothing to do with me,_ he felt like projecting in answer yet didn't, brushing his hair out of his forehead unable to chase that terrible feeling of failure out of his bones. But the Professor seemed to have heard him anyway, or maybe he just knew him that well.

 _It has everything to do with you, Ray._

The voice was gone then like it had never been there, gone with it the illusion of calm the Professor projected that hadn't worked in the first place. It had been Neela who'd been able to set him at ease about himself, making him wish he really was the man she saw, making him wish it was possible for him to confess. Never Xavier. Xavier with his joy in using his powers and the machines he built to amplify it even more just made him want to be somewhere else.

His father's voice seemed to be ringing in the infirmary, mixing spite with disgust.

Muttering a swearword as a way of grounding himself firmly in the present, Ray picked himself up. Xavier might have bowed to his preference of being called by his real name, but it still looked like he was about to go and find out what was happening at the White House - just like any other X-Man.

* * *

Taking two stairs at a time on her way down to the E.R., Neela felt like she'd stop being able to breathe once she reached it, yet everything in her screamed to get there quickly. She'd traded away an appendix for Heather's E.R. consult without thinking.

"In a hurry to get somewhere, Neela?" Lucien shouted after her at the elevators, and she barely turned to throw him a question.

"Have you seen Ray?"

The look of pity following her made an answer unnecessary. Neela grimaced. It had been stupid to think that Ray would have shown up for this shift if he hadn't before.

The news had made it through all of County - everybody had been at the wedding. An attending from ICU had been unveiled to have studied mutations in med school, classifying Ray with cheerful _schadenfreude_ , words like _psionic manipulation_ and _alpha mutation_ and _combat power_ circulating from surgery down to the morgue. Psionic powers were found to be often connected with telepathy, and the occasional nurse was now convinced that Ray had manipulated their minds.

 _It's called candy,_ Neela thought with spite. _Candy and smiles, and he didn't even bother being subtle about it._ It had had nothing to do with mutations.

Heads up, she walked down the hallway. _"You'd tell us if he'd hidden any mutant body parts from us, right?"_ Morris had asked her. Nobody was quite ready to believe that she truly hadn't known. It had made her face burn, not just because of what people assumed about them, but also because she felt so stupid, never having noticed anything wrong. And because they thought she'd helped him hide.

Because Neela wasn't so sure that she would have.

The very same Ray who had shared an apartment with her for over a year, who'd made her heart flutter whenever she got close to him was _mutated._ In his _brain_. Like the ones they treated sometimes, the ones that everybody tried to ditch because they sometimes smelled funny, and often were altered - standing in line with the homeless and crazies. It was mind-boggling, him and them, two pieces that refused to fit together.

And now Ray had vanished. Eyeliner and affronting shirts and defiance and everything, he was gone, retreating from the battle right at the kick off.

Nobody approached her, the E.R. unusually deserted. Neela saw the reason when she reached Admit: The whole staff seemed to have gathered there, mingling with visitors and patients around the TV.

She frowned, pushing past the nurses.

"What's going on?"

Sam answered without turning away from the screen. "There's been an attack on the President. They say there was a mutant in the White House and he just beamed himself into the Oval Office or something."

"He couldn't get past the FBI and got out," Malik supplied, eyes fixed on the screen. "President's supposed to be alright. But it's just one of the first reports. Man, they could be lying to prevent a panic."

"What?" Neela managed.

It was one of those things. She couldn't possibly have heard right. Things like this didn't happen, particularly not now.

"Mutant freak killer looks like the blazin' devil," Frank said.

It was impossible not to think of Ray. Neela turned to the TV with a cold feeling in her guts. She'd already been in America back on September 11th, drowning in the dread of starting med school in a foreign country but unable to not be frozen by fear alongside everybody at what had seemed to be the start of a world war. It was like that again, she could feel it, people all over the states rushing for their remotes, hospitals and offices and stores coming to a halt.

All that came to mind reflexively were the pictures from the media of the lion-like man found dead under the Statue of Liberty last year, furred beasts and hulks making the news by throwing over cars and hunting children. Terrorist activity. Altered patients grinning at them. And Ray - ramming a wall of air against everybody with a flick of his wrist like it was nothing, even when drunk.

 _Oh my god._ Neela stared at the screen. News anchor alternating with pictures of helicopters circling the White House and snippets of security camera footage mostly showing smoke; newslets rapidly flashing across the screen. Words like _assassination attempt_ and _state of emergency_ and _mutant terrorist organizations_ flashed out at her.

"...have yet to release any more information on the hunt for the mutant assassin," the news anchor said breathlessly, sky above the White House behind her obscurely bright and blue. "Washington airports remain closed as a statewide search is initiated for a being that has been described as blue-skinned, tailed and horned like Satan himself." There was a pause when she listened to her earpiece, turning towards the camera with wide eyes. "We can now show you the first clear picture of the assailant released by the FBI. This is going to run on all channels. The safety of America relies on your help. Have you seen this mutant?"

The picture changed to show what seemed to be an enlarged part of a video still, pixeled but cleared up with contrast and light. Neela heard people gasp behind her, but her eyes were glued to the screen when she stared at the... thing. It had been captured in motion, blue scales covering its face and its fangs bared, eyes wildly twisted to look at something outside the frame. Its face seemed more rectangular than that of a human, long and gaunt. Traditional genetics said that it couldn't exist.

"We now have a number for you to call if you can give the Secret Service any hints about the origins and identity of this being. Please call 9-1-1 immediately if you encounter it, or report any information directly to 2-0-2, 5-0..."

Swallowing convulsively, Haleh turned and rushed out of the room. She tried to keep it quiet, but everybody knew her niece had gills.

"That means war," Pratt said what they were all thinking, standing in the middle of the crowd with the remote. He hardened his face. "Doesn't matter that that Magneto guy is locked away now. There's still enough of those terrorists out there and now they've declared war on us."

 _Us. Them._ There was something ugly about those words even here and now, when they were the first words to come to mind. Neela wrapped her arms around herself when she shuddered, feeling too cold.

"What did you expect?" Sam said. "They're treated like shit by everybody, it's hardly surprising they've started lashing out. Can you blame them?"

"For attacking the _President_? Damn right I can," Pratt shot back.

"Yeah, doesn't anybody else think there's something weird about that attack?" That was Tony. Turning like she had been slapped, Neela hadn't even noticed he was there. Despite the situation, she had to resist an urge to hide behind Frank.

"What do you mean?"

Tony shrugged; the cut on his forehead still wrapped, he'd otherwise been fine to start his shift. Dr. Kovac had told Neela that he'd decided against pressing charges, but he _had_ called her about a dozen times ever since, probably to gloat. She'd never called him back. "I'm just saying," he said. "The last big thing on the agenda was the Mutant Registration Act, right, and that one never made it. So they got what they wanted, didn't they? So why attack the President now?"

"Maybe things aren't moving fast enough for their liking," Frank cut in."President's not exactly a mutie lover. It's why I voted for him in the first place."

"Anybody think that it might not have been terrorists at all?" That was Abby, who Neela also hadn't noticed before, her slender frame half hidden amongst the crowd. "It could have been just that one unstable guy." Finding her co-workers throwing her looks, she raised her hands in defense. "What? We treat them here every day. He could be schizophrenic or just pissed."

"Just another reason why we need that Registration Act," Frank said, and Pratt nodded.

"You've got a point there."

Three feet over, Sam looked like she was considering the notion while, at the same time, throwing guilty looks in the direction Haleh had left. It was too much to take in, and Neela found herself opening her mouth just to close it again, entirely out of words.

"Anybody else think it's fishy that Barnett vanished just before this happened?" Frank quipped.

Just like that, Neela had trouble breathing. Her chest was too tight.

"Oh come on, get a grip," Tony, of all people, said with a disbelieving laugh. " _Ray?_ "

"Yes, Frank, Ray's secretly Lex Luthor and he'll come haunt you with his death beam now for figuring him out." Abby said in a distracted tone that sounded like she was focusing on the television again.

The knot in Neela's chest loosened a little, though each attempt to breathe still felt painful.

 _This can't be happening. It can't be happening._ The words kept repeating in her head.

"Neela, hey, are you alright?" It was Tony, suddenly by her side - too close - and lowering his voice so that nobody would hear.

"I'm fine," Neela muttered, edging away. _Bollocks._

"You seriously think _Ray_ could have something to do with the attack? Are you kidding?" Sam sounded flummoxed, but not quite ready to dismiss the notion out of hand.

"You heard what that ICU quack said about how he has a _combat power_?" Frank shot back. "Maybe it's time somebody forced the hospital administration to have a look at who they hired back when. It's about time somebody checks Barnett's police record, too. I should have done that ages ago. You never know what you'll find."

"Are you really alright?" Tony repeated stubbornly, ignoring the others.

"I need to get out of here." Getting out of here would be a splendid idea. Neela needed air, room to breathe. As she spoke, she was already moving, fighting her way past Malik towards the ambulance bay.

"I'll come with you."

"I don't need you here," she managed and, when his hand wouldn't immediately leave her shoulder, repeated louder, "I don't need you here!"

She didn't _care_ that Tony had taken the mutants' side. She wasn't even sure that she did so herself. The last thing she needed right now was to have Tony looming in her back and having to explain again what she meant when she said it was over. Just because Ray was a mutant didn't mean she'd want to be with Tony again. It wasn't either or.

"Hey, Gates, give her some space." Abby's voice, and whatever the expression on her face, Tony was gone, a safe empty space forming around Neela. A moment later, it was filled by her friend materializing at her side, displaying that great gift of providing what everybody needed exactly at the right time. "Want to go get a cup of coffee?"

"I'm not sure anybody will be making coffee anywhere right now," Neela managed. The President had been attacked by a mutant assassin, one now on the loose. Everybody would be glued to the telly.

"I don't think they even know we have a democracy at the kiosk." Abby crooked her head. "They won't know if we don't tell them? Come on."

Neela followed her without further resistance, grateful that her friend was taking the lead.

* * *

It was later that day when Neela and Abby found themselves at Ike's, waiting for Luka, who was attending his last department head meeting as Chief. Neela was scheduled to accompany them home on the El and babysit Joe while the newlyweds spent the evening out. It was a meager surrogate for the honeymoon delayed by closed airports. There had been reports of a suspected sighting of the assassin in Rockford just an hour ago - news anchors gloomily hinting that he might very well have the power to appear in any place. Ever so often, the blinding lights of a police patrol car driving by would illuminate their table. Neela couldn't help but look up and follow them with her eyes every time.

Nevertheless, it was a good thing to still see that shy kind of joy on Abby's face, like she kept rediscovering that it was there, or like she felt it would be out of place. The personal part of the wedding, at least, had been a success.

"Have you talked to Gates again?" Abby asked. Neela was nursing a coke, missing Ray holding a beer at the ready for her something fierce. After spending the day filled with anxiety about all the conflicting emotions he had left in his wake, it appeared now she was too exhausted to sort them out. She'd have to sit down and research mutations at Abby's.

There was that dizzying sense of loss, because Neela just knew he was gone for good - she still had a key to his apartment, having found it missing his clothes, his guitar and his fish, still nothing there hinting at what he was. She just didn't know if she was missing Ray, or the person she'd thought he was, the one that had turned out to be a carefully cultivated lie.

The last item on her list of things to deal with was Tony Gates. Neela rolled her eyes. "He came after me twice today," she said. "I think he's waiting for me to tell him I want him back out of some twisted sense of gratitude because he didn't press charges against Ray." Then, out of an entirely different emotion, "I can't believe he just left." Not meaning Tony. Not meaning Tony at all.

It was obvious for Abby, too. "Well, can you really blame him? Everybody is growing pretty mad at him at this point. Hell, _I'm_ not sure I'd think it was a good idea if he'd stayed." She shrugged, playing with her glass. "No offense. But a mutant doctor at County? Even if Anspaugh stood for it, how is that supposed to work?" Taking a sip of her drink, she added, "And concerning Gates, I'm not surprised that he doesn't give up that fast. He isn't the type."

"That's the fucking problem I'd been having with him in the first place." In the back of her mind, there was a voice telling Neela that this had bad break-up written all over: Tony wasn't that bad a bloke, she knew that, but Neela was just exasperated by him and everything he did at this point. She _wanted_ to be angry at him, him and his insufferable habit of conquering his women and besting his men. Ray... she didn't dare guess anymore what Ray had been thinking. But Ray _had_ been drunk. Tony should have sucked it up.

Sighing in annoyance, she resolved to prop up her chin on her hand. "I can't believe they wrecked your wedding like that. I'm so sorry you had to go through that. It's not fair."

Abby paused for a moment. Then she said, "You know, I'm not even that sure about what to think of mutants." It was a strange non sequitur, except maybe it wasn't. Listlessly, Neela conceded that she didn't know. "Or that he's been lying about it, although I'm not sure I can blame him. It's really hard to judge what's going on if we don't even know what kind of a mutation he has. It might be a lot more harmless than we're making it be. Or worse. But really? After all that has happened today, I'm just happy he got out before the attack. I hope he's at a place where he can hide."

"How do you think you'd have reacted if he'd just come out to you?"

Abby crooked her head. Like Neela, she didn't know any mutants personally. "It isn't really like being gay or black, is it?"

"Homosexuality can't get people killed," Neela pointed out reasonably. _Gays_ hadn't attacked the President, although god knew they had a reason to do so. But gays were no more harmful than heterosexuals. People of color were just that; Neela should know. Mutants, on the other hand, were often dangerous. Fearing _them_ made sense.

"Yeah, nothing like safer sex for mutations." Abby shrugged. "I don't really know. Do you?"

Neela just grimaced, chin still resting on her palm when she was too tired and frustrated to lift it. Fact was that she didn't know anything. It was ridiculous - she was a damn surgeon and yet she turned out not to have a better understanding of the mutant issue than anybody else.

Yes, Ray had always manipulated people and lied - one day he was from Louisiana, the next from Florida, depending on what he wanted to achieve. She'd never know where he was from if he hadn't deconstructed the setting of _Philadelphia_ for her one night to cheer her up. But he was still _Ray._ Petty and lazy lies, not important ones, not professional ones, the ones Weaver had kept waiting for up to the day she'd left. He'd never lied to Neela after a while, or so she'd thought. It still seemed like just another annoying character quirk.

Maybe Ray was still Ray. Maybe he was an entirely different person. As long as he stayed gone, she'd never know.

Psych 101: People tended to think things were connected just because they happened at the same time. The attack on the President didn't change anything about Ray. Neela resolved that she had to start believing that or she'd just lose her mind.

Clothes rustled. Looking up, she saw that Abby had turned to wave at Dr. Kovac standing in the entrance. Walking over, the attending dropped down on an empty chair. Taking a moment to kiss Abby hello, he focused on Neela without wasting more time. "Neela, I think you'd want to know this first. There have been news about Ray at the department head meeting."

Across the table, Abby perked up. Neela couldn't help a sense of dread filling her. It had to be something terrible on a day like this. Ray was fired. He'd face charges. The hospital had made up their mind about a mutant policy, and nobody else would ever hire him again.

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid he's gone for the time being. He's requested a sabbatical to work for a research project in New York, by mail, and it's been granted. It's expected that he's going to drop out of his contract by the end of this year of residency."

"Wait, what?" Abby said. "When did County start granting sabbaticals to residents?"

Neela's hand had dropped to the table with a thud. It rather felt like her attempt to decide on a facial expression remained unsuccessful.

"It's a very prestigious research project by one of the leaders in the field - a Hank McCoy," Luka said. "The administration feels that it would be very fortunate for County to be associated with his work." He focused on Neela, putting on the reassuring air that worked so well for patients and interns. "This is a _good_ thing, Neela. It means the hospital won't institute an anti-mutant policy. An association with this McCoy would prevent that. So Ray will be able to apply at other hospitals with a good vita." Hesitating for a moment, he added, "I think you should also know that the request came with a generous donation to the hospital fund. They couldn't afford to refuse it."

It took a moment for Neela to come up with words. "That can't be right" she said. Her first instinct was denial - too much new information at once. "You have to have misunderstood something."

"It was made perfectly clear."

"He paid them off?" Abby repeated, dumbstruck. "Ray?"

Ray who had lived on the hospital roof during his first week in Chicago. Ray whose publication list existed only in the abstract. Ray who wasn't even from _New York._ How much money did you need to bribe a hospital into a change of policy?

"His benefactors did, anyway," Luka said. "Apparently, McCoy called Anspaugh personally this morning to talk about the proposition." He gave them a meaningful look.

Luka continued answering Abby's questions about the meeting, about who had taken what side using which arguments. His own insecurity about how to handle the mutant issue shown through - but who was Neela to criticize Luka? Apparently, the one department head to take a stand for mutant rights had been that weirdo from Psychiatrics.

If she could just _talk_ to Ray, she could figure it all out. All she needed was one chance at looking at him and talking to him and finding out if he really was a different person from who she had thought.

Because if he was still the same man, her feelings for him didn't change. Her realization that she could be with him, that she was allowed to without feeling guilty, didn't stop applying. Michael had been dead for over a year, and it had been time she cleaned up the mess she'd left in the wake of his death. Assuming that Ray was still... Ray. It had been time to take the initiative for once.

But... maybe.

Maybe it still was.

"They do research in _mutant genetics_?" Abby was saying.

There had to be contact information at HR. If there was a research project, there was data on it, and Neela knew the name of the head of the project - Hank McCoy.

If she really wanted to, Ray had left a way behind to track him down, a way to get all the answers she needed from him. She'd just have to make herself deal with it all heads on. It wasn't like being gay or a person of color, but it was still _Ray._

Neela refused to spend the rest of her life wondering about yet another what-if.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"We need to talk about Jean."_

"I haven't thanked you yet for doing this for me," Jean said, pulling herself into a sitting position when the exam table retracted from the CAT scan tube. She did so with a grace that stood in a startling contrast to her height, nothing like the intern who still hadn't fully grown into her long limbs when Ray had lived in Westchester. "You know how it is - it's always a bad idea if a doctor tries to treat herself. Scott has been worried, and I didn't want to bother Hank..."

Ray shrugged. It hadn't been hard to learn how to use the machine that did any scan a doctor could wish for in one go; powering it down, he waited for the film to develop. The brave new world of money. "Might as well make use of the doctor while I'm here. It's not like I have anything to do."

She smiled. "You could accompany Storm and me to Boston if you get bored."

 _So you're not planning on staying for long?_ she projected.

 _I'm not planning on being an X-Man._

 _The Professor thinks he failed you, you know. We all feel like that about you sometimes, always busy leaving._

"So how long have you been having those headaches?"

The telepathic exchange had taken no more than a second, barely long enough for him to pick himself up when the scanner started rattling to produce the readouts. It had always been easier to just react to Jean - maybe because she'd never insisted on that form of communication in the first place, maybe because she wasn't a guy. She didn't insist on following the thread of conversation now, either, the fallen look on her face replaced by an expression of frustration when she answered his question.

"Ever since Magneto launched his machine at the Statue of Liberty..." She paused, distress coloring her voice. "It feels like my powers keep growing. It's like... something is trying to break through, a little voice in my heading telling me that I could do bigger things and better things if I just let myself reach out. I've been trying to ignore it." She gave him a contrite look. "I didn't want to worry Scott. It was easier to act like nothing is wrong."

 _Don't I know that,_ he thought - to himself. "Have you talked to the Professor?"

"I don't feel like I should rely on him for this." She looked away, looking strangely forlorn for a woman her age. "I tried talking to him about it, but he hasn't been too helpful. I'm not sure... I almost think he doesn't _want_ my powers to grow. Maybe he doesn't think I'm ready."

"Well, I'm pretty sure it doesn't work like that." Carefully, Ray extracted the scans from the slot in the wall, trying to put them in a folder without leaving finger prints. It just came to show that he wasn't a lab technician; he should have put on gloves. "If the makeup of your mutation is changing, you better deal with it heads on. Let's wait for the labs and see what we have once you're back from your trip. We don't really know enough about mutations to make any guesses. Maybe it doesn't have anything to do with Lehnsherr's machine."

She chuckled. "Is that what you tell your migraine patients in a busy E.R.? 'To hell with histories if we could be running every test I can think of'? I've been an E.R. resident, too, you know."

"Nah, I'd give them ibuprofen and send them home."

 _But for yourself, you have refused to explore your empathy for years._ Jean spoke on without insisting the telepathic projection was acknowledged. "I would have thought you would advise me to just let it go."

Ray hardened his face under her admonishing look. "Duh," he said, because it should be obvious. "It's major psychic powers, Jean. We don't know anything about them. If you experiment with them just for the fun of it, it's like kids playing with fire." And he'd seen his fair share of how those worked out. "So maybe you'll be able to make a truck hover or influence a cop to not pull you over like the Professor, so what? It'll never be legal to do so for a really good reason. You don't get anything out of it except a pain in the ass and people who stare at you like you're a freak." He gave her a look. "Anyway. If it's giving you migraines, it's a medical problem. You're the mutant doctor, you know that these things don't just go away."

Jean crooked her head at him in thought. "You must have effectively blinded yourself to other people, refusing to access that part of your power." She possibly hadn't even noticed, breaking the unspoken rule and switching to the psychic thread of the conversation. "Aren't you ever curious what people are feeling about you? If patients are honest with you? You could help them better as a doctor if you knew the exact makeup of their discomfort."

"Yeah, 'cause incoming trauma always have really differentiated feelings about how they're in pain. From what I can see, it's always the same. Patients get better, they walk out happy. They don't, their relatives get you subpoenaed." Ray hadn't had that particular pleasure yet, but Kovac's ordeal last year had equipped all of them with a whole new level of nightmares. He was itching for Jean to feed him the line about all the good he could be doing with his powers, because that one had always been the frosting on the crap cake in his eyes. It wasn't his personal problem that the world sucked. Being a mutant didn't make you a _better person,_ for fuck's sake.

It had always been easier not to know Neela's exact emotional responses to him; his illusions about it had always served him better than the truth. It had made the hopes that she might answer his feelings last a little longer.

"Well, you have always been different in that way." It was all Jean had to say about it. Gliding off the exam table, she delicately pulled her skirt into place. "I have to go change and get the jet ready. The Professor had been having trouble pointing down the location of the mutant who attacked the President, but he thinks he has finally settled down now."

"Just promise to be cautious, alright?" She paused to look at him on her way to the door. Searching for the right expression helplessly, Ray settled for a grimace. He'd never be able to convince her that growing mutant powers weren't a reason to celebrate, anyway. "It's nothing to tamper with, Jean. I'm telling you as a doctor. Promise you'll at least wait for the results and ask someone to monitor if you want to try something out. What's the use of the school if you ignore it as a resource?"

Jean gave him a calculating look. "I promise," she said readily. "I just wonder why you never take your own advice in the end." Her face softened. "There is nothing wrong with you, Ray. I wish you would start letting yourself believe that. We'd all be glad to listen, if you wanted to talk about what's troubling you. About what happened before... before."

Even that hesitant way of saying it sent a shiver down Ray's spine.

 _"Your powers could rival even that of Storm if you allowed them to grow."_ The Professor had said that on numerous occasions, apparently deciding to support Ray's training but not Jean's on the premise of what would be the least helpful to each of them. Like there was actually anything positive about learning to create crazy force fields the White House wanted to register and the FBI wanted to stop. But the door had fallen shut behind Jean, the conversation over in any case.

Nothing he had to think about if he didn't want to.

Holding the first film showing Jean's brain up against the light, Ray found himself facing a crazily lit bulb looking nothing like any other fMRI he'd ever seen.

His grimace died away, the conversation forgotten. It couldn't be right. There were rock festivals less blazing than Jean's frontal lobe.

* * *

"We need to talk."

"Ray." Xavier wheeled his chair around to him. "It's good to see you. I want to introduce you to Logan, also known as Wolverine, a more recent acquaintance of the school. Logan, this is Dr. Ray Barnett, a former student who has taken over for Jean in the infirmary so that she can focus on her research."

There were kinds of people who just didn't get along, their ways of life too jarring and too different on principle. It was immediately obvious that the tall man standing in Xavier's office would be one of them, although Ray couldn't quite pinpoint why that was just yet - leather jacket too worn and whiff of cigars too strong. A little like Joshua Barnett, truth be told. Ray forced a smile, stepping forward and shaking the man's hand.

"Pleasure to meet you."

"What, no 'also known as' for you?" Something about the quirk of Logan's lips stopped just short of mockery, his posture screaming aggression as a default. "No fancy superhero names for the medics?"

"Ray used to go by _Threshold,_ " Xavier said. "He has the ability to create psionic force fields."

Ray felt his smile turn into what had to be the thousandth grimace since he'd arrived. At least Xavier had left out the empathy. "Let's stick with Ray."

 _Wolverine's_ prominent eyebrows raised when the man gave both of them a quick look, taking in more than Ray was comfortable with. He looked at ease with himself physically in a way that made Ray cautious. And maybe it was his recent telepathic contact with Jean, but just before he let go of the other man's hand he caught something else - something haunted. _Goddammit._ That's what the school did to him. He hurried to retract his hand.

The Professor spoke on as if oblivious. "Logan had been helping us out in the fight against Magneto. He is a formidable martial arts fighter, and a protegé of his - Rogue - attends the school as a student. I am hoping Logan is here to stay with the X-Men."

"Uhm, great." It took an effort to shake the impression he had caught, unspecific but discomforting and more forceful than he had expected. Something about pain - terrible pain - nothing he wanted to know more about. "I should probably start a file on you if we don't have one already. Makes handling emergencies easier."

"Logan has the ability to heal himself, Ray. He won't be your patient often. However, you will find that Jean has done excessive research on his unique condition." Xavier directed the conversation with a smoothness that had always irked Ray as a teen. "Logan, how about we let you get settled. Your room is still available. Dinner starts at seven."

There was a round of fleeting goodbyes. Ray looked after the newcomer, moving with startling quiet for somebody his size. He suddenly understood what it was that bugged him about Logan - for all he could pass if he wanted to, Logan gave off the vibe of somebody who'd never hide - oozing differentness and danger in his ease with his powers, extending an invite to just try and find something wrong and give him an excuse to leash out.

Having learned from an experience he'd rather never have called upon ever again, Ray waited until even a mutant with the right powers would be out of range before he addressed the Professor. His face hardened when he refocused on the issue at hand. "We need to talk about Jean."

"Certainly." Professor Xavier didn't miss a beat. "What about Jean?"

"I've done some tests to check out her headaches, and compared them to the ones Hank did for his research through the years." It was too much like confronting asshole parents to not just cut to the chase. "I'm not a brain surgeon, or a mutant specialist, but I know how to read an MRI. You did something to tamper with her powers before she hit puberty, didn't you? Does Hank... no, of course he knows." If Ray could figure it out in an hour, Hank could do it while solving a crossword. "Why didn't you tell Jean? She thinks Lehnsherr's machine messed with her head."

"It is very likely that it did." A confrontation with an angry physician didn't seem to faze Xavier. He'd wheeled his chair behind his desk, starting to put away teaching material. "Psychic and telekinetic gifts are an incredibly strong combination in a mutation, Ray, as you especially should be well aware. As you know, Jean's powers awoke when she was a very small child. She would never have possessed the discipline of mind to not be at risk of hurting herself and everybody in her wake."

It was a line of reasoning Ray had never heard the Professor use. He couldn't decide if he should be angry or puzzled. "She hasn't been a child for a long time."

"My sessions with her have resulted in developments that have made it impossible to reverse the procedure now." Xavier held his gaze steadily. "Telling her about them would endanger all progress we have made."

Ray narrowed his eyes, not ready to buy into it. It sounded too much like the kind of bullshit the extremist parents of patients sometimes tried to give you. Informed consent had yet to hurt anybody. _"We're taking care of it. Jesus will heal her."_ "What would happen if you told her?"

"Once able to access her full powers, I am afraid Jean would experience a severe break from reality."

"In what way? And why?" Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Ray resolved not to give an inch. "You could fight that with the right medication." Supposing Xavier's assessment even was right. Because how he'd come up with it, he had yet to disclose.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible."

"Have you ever even discussed this with Hank?"

"Of course. But Hank is not a telepath. He is trusting my judgment."

"And you are not a doctor!" Ray spread his arms in the universal gesture of _what the fuck?_ "You've got a degree in psychology, but that doesn't make you a psychiatrist! Jean is a perfectly healthy adult, Professor. Her brain's already handling the double amount of neural activity of a normal one in the first place, it's what its meant to do. She's smart. There's absolutely nothing to indicate she couldn't at least give informed consent."

Something in there seemed to have hit home, because Xavier raised his voice to match Ray's. The Professor's full attention was on him. Yet again he'd read his mind, or known him insufferably well. "I would think you would be the first to applaud the approach, Ray. I remember you begging me to do the very same thing to you in this very room."

 _(Seventeen-year-old desperation, the walls of the office seeming to close in, the voice of a ghost blaring at him from a memory that wouldn't die down. "Just make me the fuck human again!")_

A moment of tense silence, when Ray opened his mouth, and no answer came out at all. It was the last thing he'd expected the Professor to bring up, wrong on so many different levels. A perfectly professional conversation had turned personal - so fucking personal - just like that because Xavier thought he was _petty._

His voice sounded too high even to his own ears. "I'm not Jean," he said. He'd never have thought he'd say it, particularly to Professor Xavier, but this was about _ethics. I don't put my personal feelings above my patients' needs. Or my friends. I'm not you._ What the hell did Xavier think would happen if he talked to Jean? What the hell had he _done_? "And anyway, it's too late. Her powers are active all over her brain, she just hasn't felt them out yet. Whatever it is that you did to her, it's just a matter of time until she'll want something desperately enough to get a handle of it." Anger welled up in him again. "You've already fucked it up. Now you better come up with a way of managing it, because from the way you're saying it, it doesn't sound like Hank or I will be enough to pick up the pieces."

For the first time since his arrival, Ray felt glad to be here. It looked like Jean was direly in need of a friend, somebody to have her back. Somebody other than Scott, whose abilities on this front probably didn't extend beyond bringing her aspirin, and who'd always been a daddy's boy more than Ray could ever be. It would be a conflict for Scott, but never for Ray.

Payback was a bitch, he thought unkindly. It looked like Xavier's long-lasting wish to have him back at the school as a doctor was about to bite him in the ass.

* * *

 _Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters._

The small bronze sign next to the broad gates startled Neela into a halt. Her first instinct was to turn around and tell the cab driver it was the wrong address, but the man had already sped off, a shrinking smear of smoke down the long road in the middle of nowhere. He'd flat out refused to drive through the gate.

She took a deep breath, leaving the cell in her purse firmly untouched. She wouldn't call Abby and ask if she was crazy. Abby was finally off on her honeymoon. They'd still had that conversation twice since Neela had left.

Blinking against the blazing sun going down behind the mansion, she truly wasn't sure if she'd found the right place, though. No matter it had taken all tricks she knew to bribe the County’s HR clerk into giving her the information, the woman had never mentioned anything about a school. Nobody did research on genetics in a school.

Hesitant, Neela walked up the driveway, pebbles crunching delicately under every step. She felt like an intruder, showing up unannounced on the doorsteps of what wasn't a medical facility. Nobody was to be seen anywhere on the bright lawns left and right, though she could hear children screaming and laughing somewhere close. It was late afternoon; maybe classes were still taking place.

"I'll look so stupid if this is a lockbox," she muttered, ringing the bell.

Nothing happened for a moment, the bell reverberating deep in the guts of the building.

 _What the hell am I even doing here?_

What was _Ray_ doing here? He couldn't possibly have afforded a school like this.

The door swung open suddenly. A man wearing red sun glasses came into view, dressed in a comfy sweater and jeans and looking utterly at home. Looking her up and down behind the glasses, she could only presume, before his lips quirked into a smile.

Those glasses - he was _obviously_ a mutant.

"Hello Dr. Rasgotra," he said. "The Professor told me to expect you. We're all more than excited that you're here."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What are you hiding?_ Neela thought.

Perched behind the desk in Jean's small study, Ray suppressed a sigh when he turned another page on the notes Hank had faxed him from Washington. Not only had his old friend been ready to take his concerns seriously - even if he'd assured him that Xavier knew best. He had also been delighted to explain his research on Jean's mutation, in depth, throwing around words Ray was positive he'd never encountered in med school.

Now he was stuck with what amounted to an issue of both mutant medicine and psychiatrics, and neither of those were anywhere close to his specialty. If it was true what Xavier claimed about Jean's mental state, Ray thought cynically, the only thing he'd be qualified to do if worst came to worst would be patching up the injured folks left in her wake.

Though at least, he'd be able to do that very fast.

Scott sauntered in, not bothering to knock. Ray suppressed a grimace, because speaking of problems. If Scott knew what Xavier had done to Jean... Well, Ray had no idea how he'd react, but there sure would be noise. Scott looked around in interest, as if checking if Ray had already dared making any changes to his fiancée's domain.

Ray closed the file and leaned back, because while Scott and he had become friends over the years, their way of talking to each other hadn't essentially changed.

"Anything I can help you with?" he asked rather unpleasantly.

Scott paused in the middle of the room, smirk appearing all over his face. That was one of the weird things about Scott: no matter that he couldn't use his eyes to tell people how he felt, he always did his utmost to keep his face accessible to everybody.

"You," he said like he was planning on cherishing this one, "are a poser and an idiot."

"And that would be why today?"

"Oh, you know." Scott's smirk deepened. "I remember when you went away to Chicago. You made everybody think that you were living the life - you had me almost convinced that it's true and it's all parties and one-night stands amongst the humans. Yet, now it turns out you left a _girl_ behind. _You._ A real, honest to god relationship."

All of Ray's readiness to play along vanished. "I really didn't."

"I get why you wanted to leave the school better than you think, you know." Scott shrugged. "I even get why you were set on placing in Illinois, of all places." Illinois was a bad state to live in for mutants, always had been. "Claiming back your childhood dreams. Trust me, we've all been there." He smiled gleefully. "And now it turns out you're just hiding down here to brood because you're _lovesick._ "

Okay, so that was about the last conversation Ray wanted to have. He snorted, making a point of putting his file back on the stash. "Right. I don't know what the Professor or Jean told you, but they should learn to stay the fuck out of my head." He grimaced. "If you really need to know, Neela wasn't my girlfriend. She never was. And whatever there was between us was over even before I attacked her boyfriend with a force field."

"Wow." Scott raised his eyebrows. "But that wedding you crashed wasn't theirs, I take it?"

Ray gave him an annoyed look. "It was our boss' and a friend's."

"I thought so. Otherwise, she'd be looking entirely too determined to see you again."

It took Ray a moment to grasp those words.

All color drained off his face. _Neela._

"She's... what? She's _here_? Are you for real?"

"She's here," Scott confirmed. "Waiting for you in the infirmary. She liberated your forwarding address. It looks like she thinks that you owe her some answers." He was looking immensely pleased with himself. "Charles told me to give you a warning when he felt her coming, but why should I give you an opportunity to do something stupid? So I took the liberty of showing her around the school. I wouldn't want you to skewer her first impression of Xavier's..."

"Are you _nuts_?" Ray managed when his brain caught up. Blood was rushing in his ears. "You can't show her around the _school._ This place is swarming with mutants..."

"Charles isn't worried," Scott said levelly. "Plus, she already knows what you are."

"Yeah, well, she still doesn't know about the X-Men. It's still just a lie, isn't it? She doesn't know we were taught power control by _Magneto._ Why let her in just to tell her a new lie about the peachy mutant school we work for that saves helpless kids?"

"Because it isn't a lie."

"It's close enough."

 _Fuck,_ he thought, feeling dizzier by the second. _Fuck._ Neela had come. She had _come._ It _couldn't_ mean that she'd made up her mind about him. It might all look like a grand gesture of mutant love to Scott, but she didn't know _anything._ She never would. Better make a cut and make her leave, instead of juggling her knowledge of what he really was and _still_ telling her lies.

Because she had _no idea_ what he was.

He'd stood up abruptly, Scott forgotten, moving to the door.

Scott's hand wrapped around his arm with an iron grip, betraying a strength that stood in startling contrast to his frame. He always was an X-Man more than a teacher. Another thing he didn’t have in common with Ray.

"Ray," he said. "This woman has come all the way from Chicago for you _after_ you scared her out of her mind. Do you know how many humans would do that for one of us?" A stern look. "You'd be crazy if you wouldn't let her stay. Talk to her. Answer her questions and see what she wants. She deserves that much respect."

Ray pressed his lips together. _Let her stay._ He'd always wanted to let Neela _stay._ She'd always refused to stick around, always having important reasons to be somewhere else. Now that she'd come, there was a new chasm between them that couldn't be bridged. If she knew he was a mutant, the other things she didn't know started to matter.

But she was still Neela, and he'd always _wanted_ her to come to him. So he rubbed his face, and nodded against his will, drawn towards the door.

* * *

Neela crossed her arms in front of her chest, anxiously, glancing around the odd infirmary that Scott Summers had told her to wait in - the one where Ray, supposedly, would be working as a school doctor. _"He'll be part of the research team, too,"_ Mr. Summers had brushed it off and given her the hint of a smile. _"We just didn't want to complicate the paperwork. But he'll be taking care of the kids."_

 _"What kind of injuries do you have to deal with here?"_

 _"Oh, there are little power accidents all the time,"_ Summers had said, and it had taken Neela a moment to understand he was talking of mutations. _"Jean could tell you more about it. Bobby here..."_ He'd pointed at two young men working out on the lawn. One of them was throwing ice beams at the other. The other one was deflecting them by turning parts of his body into steel. _"...tended to give his dorm mates frostbites when he first came to the school. Nightmares,"_ he'd explained off-handedly. _"He'd never been away from home before."_

 _"Did Ray ever... did he ever..."_ she'd started saying, because Summers had mentioned, just before, that he and Ray had shared a dorm.

Summers had just looked at her for a moment through unreadable glasses. _"Ray's force fields fire only intentionally,"_ was all he'd said in answer.

 _School for the Gifted_ meant a school for mutants. It was impossible for Neela to wrap her mind around it. Ray had attended a whole school that had coached him on using those powers he'd been hiding, punching Tony with air and a wave of his hand. There had always been something that had set him apart from the other doctors at County, but she had thought it came down to unusual hair and a dream of having a career in music.

The infirmary reminded her strangely of Dr. Clemente, who had always pushed for top-notch technology and who'd also never quite fit in, albeit in a different way. Neela irrationally wondered if he'd been a mutant, too, shuddering at the thought. Last time she'd seen Clemente, he'd been drooling from a heavy dose of antipsychotic drugs - the day Michael had died.

She started when the door opened, suddenly threatening to panic because there Ray was, and maybe she wasn't ready after all.

He was dressed in his usual jeans and crumpled shirt, hair spiked daringly, but his expression was cautious and he shut the door very quietly, coming to a halt not far from it, across the room.

Neela exhaled a small breath. "Hi," she said, trying to be brave.

"Hey." His voice was very quiet. "What are you doing here?"

 _That's a very good question._

There was nothing inviting in his stance despite the soft tone of voice, and she had trouble finding words.

"I wanted to see you again," she tried, words tumbling out of her. "I couldn't just let you leave like that. I'm, I’m so sorry what happened, the way everybody reacted. And I tried calling you, but you didn't answer your phone and I... I can leave right now if you don't want me here."

There was a moment of silence, and a sudden pang of hurt, when he didn't react at all. He just looked at her. A firm and clear _no_ would have been nice.

Neela cleared her voice. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

"I'm alright."

"I never knew... I never would have guessed that you're..."

"...abnormal?"

"Oh, I've always known _that_ ," she said in a rush, snidely, huffing a nervous laugh. "That you're a mutant," she finished when the joke fell flat.

Ray grimaced. "I'm not all that different if I don't use my powers."

"I wish you had trusted me to know," Neela said helplessly, confused about the quality in his voice that she couldn’t decipher, so she just barged forward. It was true. It had been a shock, learning about it like that, a day before all hell broke loose on the news about mutant assassins and mutant terror. On her flight to New York, Neela had come to convince herself that she was better than that. She'd have come around faster if she'd been told differently, in a different situation, if he had told her as a show of trust. Sitting on their couch in their apartment, drinking beer.

A secret to share.

 _But you've never given him any reason to trust you before,_ she thought, thinking of Tony and Michael and a kiss goodbye in a van.

Surely Ray was thinking the same. Abruptly, he went into motion, not towards her but to the only exam table, starting to clean up the tray. "How are the others taking it?"

"They're coming around."

"Are they really?"

Pratt set on voting Republican the next time around. Sam looking away in guilt whenever Haleh needed to address her. Morris uncharacteristically silent and green around the gills when Frank brought up the mutie freak and how they should be glad to see him out, and everybody quietly relieved that the problem had gone away before it had become theirs.

"They'll come around," Neela declared.

Ray's lips twitched at that, faintly, acknowledging a sentiment he knew to be untrue.

It still should be true, though. If he'd just let her, Neela would make it true for him. Maybe it had been Summers' explanations and the fervent research she had done - that had just raised more questions - or just standing in the same room with Ray who wasn't sprouting wings and who hadn't turned blue.

She wanted to make it true, anyway. That should count.

"So I hear Scott has shown you around," Ray said, dumping an empty tube in the trash. "He probably gave you the booklet tour for the rich parents. I'm surprised he allowed you to enter the lower levels. They're usually closed to the public."

"He said he thought I'd want to see your workplace."

"I don't suppose he showed you what's under the basketball court, too."

"What do you mean?"

"Forget it." He gave her a short look at that, maybe regretting that he'd brought it up. "I don't think it's good for you to be here, Neela." There was a strain in his voice. "It's a really crappy time to get involved with mutants, and trust me, Scott only showed you the good parts. It looks all fancy, taking in mutant kids that have nowhere else to go and teach them how it's fun to have the super powers."

She blinked in confusion. "But it's a good thing, isn't it? They helped you pay for college."

"Kids grow up to be adults, is the problem." He paused, sighing, fixating his eyes on the exam table. "These kids are throwaways, Neela. They're good kids, they deserve a chance, but just because you put them in clean clothes and teach them English lit..." He turned around to her, facing her. "Each of them will go off into the world with a crapload of issues and really specific ideas on how to get the things they want with their powers."

Neela started, confused. "Doesn't that make it even more important to give them a positive environment?"

Ray grimaced, crossing his hands in front of his chest - a loud and clear defensive gesture. "Why are you here, Neela?"

"I made a choice," Neela said before she could think. "I wanted to be fair. I don't... I don't want things between us to end like this - not because of this." She took a deep breath. "I don't think it matters that you're a mutant," she managed.

He huffed a laugh. "You don't know what you're saying."

"How about you _tell_ me then?" she answered, just a little exasperated. "One day you're just you, the next day you're suddenly a mutant. Everybody at County is scared, because nobody knows what you can do." She searched for words. "There's an ICU attending who swears you must be a telepath, because it's a... psionic power... and he classified you on some scale..."

"It's called a Ramson scale." Ray snorted. "It's bullshit. How did I score?"

"He says you must be a 4."

"See that's why it's bullshit." Ray rolled his eyes.

"So how..."

"It's just a way to say how dangerous people are. It... it makes it sound like that's all there is to know about it, alright?" He hesitated, conflicted emotions fighting it out on his face, then offered, like a compromise, "Scott's a 4."

"What does he do?" Something with his eyes, she'd thought, but hadn't dared ask.

"He shoots optic blasts out of his eyes." His face hardened. "He could level a mountain if he took off his glasses."

"Oh."

There was another agonizing moment of silence. Then, Ray reached a decision, because suddenly he was in motion, pushing the tray aside and turning towards her. "Still want to know what I can do?"

"Of course."

"Alright." Moving towards her, a buzzing sound was suddenly in the air, one that eerily sounded like Ewan McGregor brandishing a lightsaber. Something was pushing at her, insistently. Neela squeaked, stumbling backwards with every step Ray took.

Burying his hands in his pockets, he came to a halt in the middle of the room, the invisible force field hovering so close to her that Neela could feel it absorbing heat, softly charging strands of her hair.

"That's a psionic force field," Ray said, voice ungiving. "It could hold off sound, Scott's optic blasts - mostly it just knocks things over. It's a pretty standard psionic power. Really straightforward. It activates in the frontal lobes - you can look at my brain scans if you want. It's not useful for anything, except if you want to go and attack people. Like Gates."

It was a challenge. Everything about it was a challenge, there was nothing subtle about it. _Run and hide,_ it was saying, _Go away and never come back._ Neela's heart was racing, refusing to calm down.

 _It's Ray,_ she reminded herself forcefully, bristling. _He always dares people to run._

Except for her before today, but she had done it anyway.

Neela found herself reaching out, touching the field between them - trusting that he would stop her if it were dangerous to do so.

It started humming more violently when her fingers found it, though the sound was so low that she probably wouldn't have heard it if she weren't standing right in front of it.

It tickled, in a strange way, rigid like padded leather.

"Can you use it to hold back bacteria?" she asked, thinking of the E.R.

Something flickered across Ray's face. "I don't know," he said with a hint of exasperation. "I... Maybe. I guess if I practiced, I could learn."

Neela gave him a look to show what she thought of the fact that he hadn't.

Whatever it was that she had said to make it happen, a part of the Ray's defense seemed to have seeped out of him, not quite as set anymore on chasing her off. He moved closer, the force field still between them. Neela shuddered - because she always did when Ray got close, such a strong pull that had always left her so afraid. She remembered standing that close to him that day she'd moved out of the apartment, when she'd known he would bend down to kiss her and she wouldn't be able to ever let go if he did. She really had run that day.

He'd seemed so open and vulnerable then, set on letting her in.

He'd always offered to let her in.

Now she was looking up to him, the force field raising charged strands of hair into the air, and there was an edge on his face - wanting to offer and not daring. Not anymore.

 _What are you hiding, Ray?_ she thought. _What's underneath?_

"Do you want me to leave, Ray?" she repeated softly.

His eyes were glued to her lips with a strange expression of loss on his face; he didn't answer.

But he also didn't move to show her the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Instincts honed by X-Men missions took over, overriding med school._

Ray uneasily followed the direction of Neela's eyes when she came to a halt in the hallway that led past the students' common room. The girl she was looking at was Rogue, he saw - the girl Logan had brought along. The boy next to her - Bobby Drake, Ray's memory supplied after a moment - had leaned towards her, and she had edged away.

It had been twenty-four hours since Neela had shown up, and Ray still expected her to leave at the slightest upset. Rogue's posture was strangely mimicking how he felt himself.

"Is she alright?"

"Her mutation's in her skin," he provided, because he couldn't find a reason not to. "She'd absorb his mutation if she touched him, and kill him eventually. Hank and Jean are looking into ways for her to shut it down, but it's looking like she isn't meant to have one."

Neela frowned. "But that doesn't make any sense. If her mutation would prevent her from procreating..."

"...evolution will take care of itself, because she won't have any children and it won't take," Ray agreed. Evolutionary dead end. Textbook case. _If it just was that simple for all of us._ He looked at Rogue again. "Now explain that to her."

"Trust me, she already knows," a new voice chimed in. Neela jerked around, painfully reminding Ray that her front of confidence was very much a work in progress. "But even if she can't learn to control her powers, she has found a place that accepts her for who she is."

Of course it was Scott, strolling up to them. Smiling without joy, he turned his head at Rogue. "It might just be a matter of time, anyway. It took Hank and Charles over a year to find something that worked for me. I was effectively blind until I got these." He tapped at his glasses.

Neela studied them with interest. "How do they work?"

"Ruby quartz. It's the only thing that can stop the blasts. If you want to know why that is exactly, you should ask Hank. He has theories. We found out by trial and error."

"Does it work on your force fields, as well?"

She'd been looking at Ray, but Scott was faster to answer - probably out of the same malicious instinct that had made him intercept Neela the day before. "The configuration of Ray's and my power are very different," he said readily. "Mine ignites in the optic system. His is psionic in nature, and at least somewhat connected to the amygdala. Hence his secondary powers."

Neela turned to Ray in confusion. "You have a secondary mutation?"

"None worthy of mention," Ray said easily and focused on Scott, the meddling prick. "Is there anything you wanted?"

"Actually, yes. Sorry to interrupt." Scott fully turned towards him, and despite the casual way he was holding himself, a person who knew him well could see that he was play acting for Neela's sake. He was all Cyclops, leader of the X-Men. "Jean just called from Boston, and she made Charles think it would be good for the two of us to go to D.C. over night so we can ask... Eric a couple of questions." He grimaced at Ray to show that he didn't really think it was funny, then smoothly turned to Neela. "Eric is an old acquaintance of the school," he said. "We're hoping that he can clarify some things that Jean and Ororo learned in the professional development class they were taking today."

"He was a great physics teacher," Ray chimed in, just for sake of the dig. When Scott turned his head at him slowly, Ray knew he was glaring behind the glasses. He smirked nastily in return. Yes, he'd gotten it. Jean and 'Ro had found something in Boston that pointed towards Magneto. That probably was bad news, but not being an X-Man, Ray didn't see why he should care.

"Anyway," Scott said pointedly. "We should be back in time for the afternoon classes, but all the staff will be gone for the night. So I'll tell the kids to knock at your door if they need anything. It'd be great if you could do a round, check if everybody's minding curfew. Jubilee and Rogue have taken to sneaking off into 'Ro's garden at night to chat. And Jean reminded me to tell you that you shouldn't let the twins skip breakfast."

"Uhm, sure." Making sure to give Neela a questioning look, she shrugged an okay with a bit of a mystified smile - probably because she, too, thought that Ray in charge of a student body was weird. The sight made Ray long to reach out and touch her cheek despite everything. "Logan won't be around?"

"Oh, he's around." Scott grimaced. "How about I still put you in charge?"

It wasn't a question, as Ray noticed with a trace of amusement. If he hadn't liked Logan on first sight that was one thing, but Scott hadn't even used the opportunity for a dig about Ray's reliability. He'd have to investigate at some point. For now, they just made their goodbyes.

"Who's Logan?" Neela asked when Scott had left.

"A big scary man with a healing factor that hasn't exactly made him a nicer person," Ray replied easily. "Jean's current pet project for research."

"I'd rather be curious to see the research done on her condition," Neela said, nodding at Rogue. "There have been full tests, right?"

Ray hesitated. "Another pair of eyes won't hurt, I guess," he said, unwilling to involve Neela on another level that would lead to lies, but unable to find a way out. There had to be stuff about Magneto's machine in Jean's notes. "How about we ask her if she'd mind?"

* * *

"One hour. You'll be in bed at midnight." Ray gave the two girls his sternest look. "And don't think I wouldn't come check on you. I've got Dr. Rasgotra here to send into your dorms."

"Sure!" Jubilee beamed at him. "That's, like, loads of time."

"Thanks, Dr. Barnett," Rogue added serenely.

The two of them hurried off, whispering to each other just loud enough to hear when Jubilee bent over to her friend. "Dr. Grey would _never_ let us stay up late. I _told_ you he's way cooler than her. And younger."

"And hotter," Rogue shot back, utterly unaware how well exactly sound carried in this hallway. The girls turned a corner, leaving a fading explosion of giggles behind.

Neela was covering her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle a chuckle.

"Don't," Ray warned her. His attempt at the sternness failed when her whole face broke into a grimace from the attempt not to laugh at him out loud.

"What?" she said, spreading her arms in a defensive gesture when she followed him down the hall. "They're right."

That made him chuckle despite himself, because he'd never seen Neela quite that flirtatious before. It had been a whole day since she'd shown up, and the more she saw of the school and Ray's life and all the freakishness, it seemed like it all had just served to gradually set her more at ease. Her inquisitive nature seemed to have overruled her nerves, making her ask all kinds of questions - about how particular mutations worked, about how the school was run, about where the money for the equipment came from. Just like before in Chicago, she made Ray want to forget the nagging voice telling him that she didn't know anything, especially about him. It didn't exist if he forgot about it. She was here. Not with Gates in Chicago, but here. It made him shudder from a strange kind of awe, and that awe made him suspicious.

They were making their way down the hallway. Ray at least wasn't in a hurry to reach their respective rooms. Neela was teasing him about his hidden teaching skills and attempts at corrupting the young, one of which Ray strongly denied and one of which he blamed on Scott. It was easy to let the chit-chat wash over them, filling him with that sense of warmth and ease and Chicago that he'd come to associate with Neela. _It doesn't exist. She doesn't know._

Reaching the guest room Neela had been assigned, Ray had been captivated by the tale of how Morris had last been holed up in a hotel room with Hope - too hard to believe to be true. And maybe he was trying a little too hard not to think of mutations, the reason they were here now, because otherwise he certainly wouldn't have allowed himself to forget Gates. Gates only came back to mind when he caught Neela's hand, finding himself pushing her against the wall very softly - a motion that felt so natural that he just followed through when it occured to him to do so. Neela didn't resist.

 _Screw Gates,_ Ray told himself viciously. _Gates isn't here. She followed you here._

 _But she's going back and you aren't. And you're still a mutant._

It hurt, suddenly and unexpectedly, that now that she was here, there was such a fucking new mess standing between them that he couldn't do anything about - that she didn't _know_ about, and hiding it from her made him no better than Tony Gates. No better at all.

Ray couldn't stop himself from staring at Neela's mouth. His body knew exactly what it wanted from her - hyper aware of the heat coming off her and the shallow sound of her breaths, the way her chest was raising and falling and almost touching his, but not quite.

 _She's here._

His eyes flickered back up to hers, and her gaze never left his when the quirk of her lips died, while she slumped against the wall. "It's over between me and Tony, Ray," she said softly. "We're done. I told him even before you fought with him, right after I'd talked to you. I've always wanted it to be you."

"You've said that before," Ray muttered, thinking of Gates and her, jumping each other's bones on a desk - one image that would possibly forever be etched into his mind.

She was so fucking _close._

"I've meant it before," she said.

Ray _wanted_ to believe her, he really did, but that was the fucking problem, that he always _believed_ her until something came up and she...

Surrounded by the school that had tried so hard to make him an X-Man, it occurred to him, suddenly, that he could know.

If he just touched her, and lowered those shields in his head he tried not to ever think about, he could know if she really...

Noticing that he'd reached out to touch her cheek, Ray jerked his hand away as if he'd been burned.

"What is it?" she asked, searching his face nervously.

When he didn't immediately answer, she lowered her head, conflicting emotions on her face.

 _Damn._

Ray opened his mouth, closed it again. He... _wanted_ to tell her, just to have told her - because she was here and maybe there _was_ a chance she would stay. He'd always been terrible at letting her go.

"I've got some empathy." It wasn't that he'd never talked about it, but not all that often, and never with people who weren't like him. It felt strange, like using a word you knew you shouldn't use. Somehow, the empathy had always felt sleazier than the force fields. "That's the secondary mutation Scott was talking about. I could feel some of what you're feeling, if I touched you. It's not... a big power, but it's there."

Neela's body shifted a little under his. Ray froze. But a second passed by and she didn't retreat, but raised her head again to search his face. Not scared or cautiously. Inquisitively. She'd made a choice coming here, she'd said. She'd always wanted it to be him. Even before Michael died. She'd said. It had felt like it at the time, too, but...

She said, cautiously, "Have you ever?"

"No." A beat. "I ignore it when it happens by accident."

Feelings didn't matter - actions did. It had never mattered how she felt as long as she said no. It had never mattered how he felt about empathy, either, he'd still gone and fucked every woman he could find to substitute for using it.

"Maybe you should." Neela blushed, lowering her eyes. "Some time."

The topic hadn't made him think of sex by accident. Inanely, those words felt like the hottest thing Ray had ever heard; he had to fight a sudden urge to get closer, feel all her body on his, and fucking kiss her already.

There was a little voice telling him that the smart thing would be to wait until he was ready to trust her more, until he could dare to actually _combine_ those two things, and a louder one to remind him how that wouldn't happen because it never happened and because she would _leave_. She'd go back to Chicago and he'd have to stay.

But Neela was the one who coiled his shirt around her hand and drew him in.

Any words of resistance died before they could reach his mouth.

Neela pulled herself up on her toes, her lips touching his - _finally._ Ray shut off his brain. Who cared about mutants and empathy when none of these things had ever stood between them before? The ones that had were gone, left behind in Chicago and Neela's lips were still that magnetic mix of determination and softness...

Two corridors down, one of the children screamed, suddenly - noise ringing through half of the wing.

Ray froze in mid-motion. He closed his eyes, and groaned.

"I'll kill them." Everybody was supposed to be _asleep_.

Neela chuckled against his cheek.

"You should make sure that everything's alright."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not going anywhere," Neela said innocently. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather make sure we don't get interrupted by a little girl with nightmares."

The nervous tension was gone, the guilt of lying washed away. Ray wouldn't be proud of it later on, but his sudden relieved arousal made him forget the issues. Just like days had gone by in Chicago when he'd just forgotten that he was a mutant, all the parts of his life before he'd been a doctor. He smirked at Neela in answer, her cheeks coloring in a nervously happy dark shade.

 _"Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."_ The words had been on his tongue, but they never had a chance to materialize.

Pushing himself off the wall, Ray found himself face-to-face with three camouflaged figures holding sniper rifles who'd just turned the corner.

They had sniper rifles. Camouflage gear. In the middle of the fucking school.

And not a moment to think. Everything within him just blared _danger_ and _Neela,_ and _military,_ and between that and a fear cultivated by the media - whispered stories about mutants who'd vanished - Ray just reacted, his instincts honed by X-Men missions and Lehnsherr. His hand shot up, pressure building in his forehead, then his whole body. At the same time that the three men cocked their guns at them, a whole-body move released a perfectly aimed force field at them, knocking them to the ground. They just fell, swift, eerily quiet.

Just like that.

They didn't get up.

Swaying in search for balance, Ray was still staring, unable to turn his eyes away or _comprehend_ what had just happened.

"Oh my god oh my god, _Ray!_ " Neela was exclaiming in one long exhaled breath, and he didn't need to turn to know she'd paled, unsuccessful in trying to process the last seconds.

That was when Siryn started screaming somewhere in the house, sonic blast piercing right in his ear while windows broke out of their frames, vases crashed to the ground.

All hell broke lose.

"We're under attack! This way!" Ray barked at Neela, blindly reaching for her hand and dragging her along, towards the fallen soldiers - towards the dorms. His mind snapped back into place, firing up and screaming orders at him. No matter what it all meant. Military. At the school. Attacking Siryn, who was eight... _silencers_... and they'd come when they knew the Professor would be gone, his appointment at prison arranged for by the them.

The sounds of helicopters were suddenly loud in the air, broken windows allowing the sound to carry through the building, cold night air drifting at them.

Ray could hear Neela scream his name at him through the noise that had suddenly started ringing through the building, soldiers bellowing commands at each other and the sound of steps, heavy enough to carry through the carpets, everywhere in the house. But, the children - there was no time. "Come along!" he shouted back. No time for reassurances, for anything. _Just act._

Another group of gunmen turned the corner, and Ray's hand was up again before he could think. This time, he could see the darts they fired hitting the force field, building up right between them and just _pushing forward_ in the same pace he moved, running them over with the force of a train. They fell. He'd barely had to concentrate. Neela stumbled when they circled around the soldiers, looking back maybe to see if they were alive, but Ray didn't even think to slow down. The sounds of helicopters were getting louder, blinding lights shining through the windows. Not daring to lower the hand he used to move the force fields, Ray grabbed Neela's harder with the other, fastening his pace. They had to get _out._ Neela, and whatever kid they could...

Neela screamed in surprise when two figures stumbled around the corner, and Ray's heart was pounding through his chest when he realized he'd almost attacked two students, dressed for bed. They were two of the oldest - Bobby who he'd seen alongside Rogue, and another, who he couldn't remember having met.

"Dr. Barnett!" Bobby managed when he saw them, desperately trying to catch his breath. "Rogue and Jubilee are still in Miss Munroe's garden."

Ray was just as desperately trying to gather his thoughts. "That's the other part of the building," he managed. "No chance to get there now."

"What if we..." the other boy chimed in, but Ray cut him off.

"No time. Follow us! Now!"

"Are you daft?!" Neela sounded near hysterical when the boys didn't immediately move. "They have _guns_! Come _along_!"

It took that, but the two boys exchanged a look, following them when Ray was already in motion again. He didn't dare turn around to look at Neela, scared by the potential distraction, scared of what he might see. Military at the school. Black ops. _What the hell?_ What the _fuck_ had Xavier and Scott gotten Westchester involved in?

If soldiers had come to the school, they'd come for the team, the adults. But they had to know the X-Men were gone, the jet was gone. The children then. They had come for the children. And Ray had trained to be an X-Man, had run a couple of missions with the team when it got started, but nothing had prepared him for this.

Cue Logan turning the corner, never breaking his stride.

Blood was covering his shirt, the claws Ray had only read about before extended. He looked like Death walking. Ray would never have guessed the relief he felt upon seeing this man.

"Big kid got some of the other kids out," Logan said, head turning from Neela to Ray to the boys, settling on Bobby, the whole situation immediately perceived. "Where's Rogue?"

"She and Jubilee went to the rose garden," Bobby stuttered. "Behind the east wing of the school."

"You can't just _go_ there!" Ray sharply stopped him when the other man just turned. Okay, so apparently Logan _was_ able to walk through a place swarming with soldiers and survive, seeing as he'd already done it once, but still, that didn't mean the plan wasn't crazy.

"We have to get to the lower levels, get out of the house. They must have come from that side, they've already got her. They'll just get the hell out and take her along if they know you're coming!"

Wolverine grimaced, but nodded an affirmation that he obviously hated. "What's the fastest way down?"

 _I let them stay outside when it wasn't allowed,_ Ray thought, muttering a curse. Everybody was in danger everywhere, helicopter engines still loud enough for their voices to be drowned out. He didn't know any of these kids well yet - but _God, Jubilee_ \- but there was Neela, too, and he knew he'd never forgive himself if something happened to her because of him, because of his fucked up life. She was still clinging to his arm. Neela was remarkably brave, he knew that, but this was war - too much to take in for Ray as well.

Ray hadn't been familiar with the school for years, so it was the boys who provided directions, showing Logan the way to the closest passageway. Grinding his teeth, Ray let go of Neela with an order to stay close, taking the lead next to Wolverine, his powers better equipped for dealing with attacks in a safe way. The other mutant didn't hesitate when a soldier made it past a force field, claws ramming into the man's chest before he could even understand what was happening. The boys were just staring, tense and quiet and pale, both at the ready to use their powers if they had to. It might just have been his nightmarish imagination playing tricks on him, but Ray thought he heard Neela trying not to sob.

A hidden passageway cut open with impatient claws later, they were running through a lower level corridor, silent except for their feet on the steel tiles. The noise from the school and outside could barely be heard down here, except maybe for Wolverine, who seemed to be listening intently.

They passed through the team equipment room, but there was nothing here that they could use - the uniforms, Scott's substitute visor, jet manuals - adornments of the X-Men, whose dream was breaking into bits fifty feet above them. Only for the emergency kit at the wall did Ray pause, shoving it into Neela's arms. It was the first time he looked at her. Fear was etched into her face. "Take that for medical emergencies," he heard himself say, snatching a couple of the team phones off a shelf on impulse. They'd have to contact Scott and Jean. If the Professor hadn't already sensed his kids's terror.

Breaking through an emergency exit into the scrubland behind this part of the school, they came to a halt and stared at the helicopters, circling the school like they were examining an especially interesting cage full of bugs. Cold night air was piercing underneath Ray's shirt.

"There's no way of getting Rogue out of there anymore!" he shouted at Logan when the other man went into motion again; he'd barely even oriented himself.

Logan glanced at him sharply. "I've got unfinished business there, bub," he shouted. "I'm catching a ride!"

"How in hell do you suppose to do that?" That was Neela. Ray would almost have laughed at the absurdity of hearing her channel all emotions into anger about Logan's unbelievable daftness.

Logan grimaced. "Ain't the first time," he shouted. "Oxygen's not a problem as high as helicopters go up! I'll jump off before they land!" He looked up. "I think I've done it before!"

"You _think_?" Ray repeated.

"The garage is full of fast cars. Jean's in Boston. Go there!"

"You're _nuts_!" Neela shouted after him, but Logan seemed to consider the conversation finished.

"Hey!" Waiting for the other man to turn around a last time, Ray threw one of the phones at him. It was the only thing he could think of to influence the decision. He had a really bad feeling that this man knew exactly what he was doing, just like he had when fighting those soldiers. Logan was a killer. Nobody in his path would survive. "Give us a call once you know where they are. Jean and 'Ro still have the jet. They'll come."

There was a calculating pause, and Logan nodded. A second later, he had melted into the shadows, ready to extend his powers to excruciating lengths because of a girl, because he had promised.

Unable to not look at Neela standing close by his side, Ray suddenly thought that, maybe, he understood at least that sentiment.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"It was a perfect force field," he breathed, as if it had been the first time he'd created such a thing of beauty in his life._

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Ray almost stumbled in his attempt to get out of the Drakes' living room fast, glass doors sliding shut behind him with force. Bobby's worried and Neela's calming voices were shut out immediately, neatly trimmed lawn quiet, and he tried to take a deep breath. All of his body had to be shaking.

He didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time - laying low at Bobby's house, telling them Bobby had brought two staff members and his best friend to tell his parents what he really was.

But that had been before Ronny Drake had stopped looking his brother in the eye, before Mr. Drake's face had hardened and Mrs. Drake had started working assiduously on not breaking into tears. And no matter that Neela was doing her best in there to keep things cool and rational, it had suddenly all been too much. His own mother's sobs rang in his ear as if she were right there in the room with them - hiding in a corner - his father had been screaming and he might as well have been right back there, sound and smells and pictures unreeling out of order when he should be able to keep them in _line._ It had been all he could do to just sit there, willing Neela to take over, starting violently when his phone had started buzzing.

His phone. Surreally aware of his heaving chest and his pounding heart, Ray stared at it without understanding before he remembered what it was for. It was still buzzing. The X-jet's caller ID was the same it had been five years ago. It hit him, then, what he was supposed to be doing, and he raised it to his ear, hitting _answer_ shakily.

Jean and 'Ro, and Scott and Professor Xavier were still out there, somewhere, out of reach all day. No news from anybody. No news from Logan.

"Tell me you're alright," he said, because nothing was alright, _they_ weren't alright. Because the Drakes weren't taking the news well and that meant that none of them were safe; Jean and 'Ro couldn't be safe.

 _You're going mad._

"Ray," Jean's voice breathed with relief. "Thank god. We couldn't reach anybody at the mansion."

The mansion that had been attacked, not because of the Drakes or his father - _not because of his father_ \- and Ray had been alright during that. He'd been alright then. What the _fuck_ was happening to him? "Are you _alright_?" he repeated.

'Ro. "Affirmative. We've retrieved the mutant, and are on the way home."

"There is no home." He had to suppress a bubble of hysterical laughter, swallowing hard, pressing his eyes shut. _Home_ \- what a joke. "There's nobody left at the mansion, 'Ro. There's nothing left, they... There was an attack." _Focus. Be an X-Man. Report._ "The mansion was attacked by, by soldiers. They had tranquilizers. They must have known that the Professor wouldn't be there. Some kids got out, but some were taken. Logan went after them, but he hasn't called in. I gave him a team phone."

There was a tense pause when the women took in the news. Ray used the opportunity to breathe, deep calming breaths - _and don't the fuck hyperventilate_ \- _not_ listening to his father's voice, not looking at the patio when the sight threatened to overlap with cheap yellow carpet and blood...

 _Please, no..._

Jean's voice. "We haven't been able to reach Scott and the Professor, either."

"Where are you now?" Storm, ever so practical. "We'll pick you up."

"Orient Heights. Boston. Bobby Drake's house. I'm with Allerdyce and Neela, from Chicago, who came to visit. It's... Something's..." He trailed of. He had no idea how to finish that sentence. _Make it fast,_ he wanted to say. _Get me out of here._ Please. _Make it an extraction code._ It was just so hard to wrap his mind around _why_.

"What's wrong?" Jean, alert.

His throat felt too constricted to swallow down that lump.

 _("I should have killed you!" shouted his father. "I should have drowned you at birth!")_

"It's..."

 _Something's wrong with me,_ he wanted to say. _It's never happened before. Not like this. I think I'm going crazy. It's the wrong time and it isn't supposed to be happening, but it is, and I think I'm panicking. I think this is... this is panic._ He was supposed to be a doctor. He was supposed to be able to diagnose; he should have _words._ There was no _time_ for this now.

 _Come up with something._ No time.

"I'm... The Drakes.

"I think I'm having an anxiety attack." It didn't quite sound like his voice. "Some sort of... episode."

A beat. "We're on our way. Stay calm." Jean had switched to a cool collected professional voice. "Your friend is a doctor, too?"

He swallowed convulsively. "Yeah."

"Tell her what's happening. _Tell_ her, okay? She'll know how to help."

"Sure." Whatever. It seemed like too much of an effort to disagree, and it seemed to be what Jean wanted to hear.

"We're ten minutes out."

The connection closed after those words, and Ray slumped against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to will away that terrible mix of dizziness and the past sifting in and out of the present. It was impossible to focus on anything but that - except he had to go back in there to finish that conversation and tell John and Bobby, in a _normal_ voice that they had to leave. _Not_ freaking out about going back in. It would all make sense once it stopped, Ray told himself, except he was so shaky, and what if it wouldn't?

He was Ray Barnett, for fuck's sake, he didn't have anxiety attacks.

 _("I'm gonna kill you..."_

 _Puddle of blood growing...)_

One step at a time.

That was how Ray willed himself to get up, to shove the cell into his pocket, to turn towards the glass doors. Looking through, the Drakes and Bobby and John were talking. Ronny still was staring at the ground, and Mrs. Drake's shoulders were shaking just so. Neela, seated on a chair across the window, was staring at him, face confused and eyes concerned as her mind was working away.

Again the doors opened with too much force, banging shut when Ray staggered inside. Bobby's brother jumped to his feet, staring at Bobby and John in defiance and--

"Ronny! You stay right where you are," Mr. Drake said sharply. "This isn't the time."

Ronny sank down onto the couch with blazing hate in his eyes - or maybe that was just what it looked like to Ray - and Bobby lowered his head, and John smirked in delight.

Getting it all wrong.

"Mom..." Bobby muttered. His world had just collapsed, Ray thought. A son no more. Just a mutant.

"This is all my fault," his mother said, pressing her hand against her mouth.

John perked up leisurely. "Actually, they've found out that it's the males who..."

"We have to leave," Ray interrupted him, eyes moving from Bobby to Neela to the adults.

 _(The puddle of blood was growing on the carpet, but he didn't stop._

 __Let go of the force field, Ray, _a voice was saying in his head, strange mental grasp on his mind, not violent just yet but firm._

 __I can't, _he thought back at the voice, scared, shaking inside while his hands weren't shaking at all and he wasn't speaking but was and the force field was up, up, up and he couldn't lower it he couldn't he..._

 __You will kill him if you don't. __

 __I know. __

 _It was the telepath in his head who loosened the force field, not him, and Joshua Barnett slumped to the ground...)_

Neela's eyes were still all on him, searching his face.

"Ray..." she said cautiously. Ray thought he might have missed a part of the conversation.

"We have to leave," he repeated. "Now."

"Now wait a minute, Dr. Barnett, you can't just walk in here and dump something like this over our heads without giving us time to talk it through properly," Mr. Drake said, frowning and pulling himself up straight in his chair. "Show some respect for our situation. You're telling us Professor Xavier took away our son to a school for mutants without ever informing us about that fact. And Bobby knew, but never told us. We never knew that he was anything but..."

"Normal?" Bobby said like he was about to puke. "I am normal, dad, I..."

"...and that doesn't mean that we don't love him anymore, but..."

"Yeah? Could have fooled me."

"Ray!"

 _("We should have drowned you at birth. We should..."_

 _"I'm gonna kill you..." Ray managed, trying to get up._

 _His chest was hurting - everything was hurting, and bruised - but he didn't...)_

"...for Bobby to stay here with you so that you can talk about it as much as you have to." Neela had stood up. "We know that it's a lot to take in, and you should have all the time you need. Bobby, you will fill your parents in on all they need to know about the current situation?" Bobby nodded, all pale. "We need to get home before curfew."

"I'm staying, too," John said.

Neela's face remained firm, though her eyes flickered at Ronny when he looked at John in horror. "Uhm, I don't think that's a good idea, John. The Drakes should have some time to themselves. And. You have a test tomorrow." And wouldn't that also be hysterical if Ray wasn't feeling like he should have fainted minutes ago. What the _fuck._

"Promise you'll call me about Rogue, Dr. Rasgotra?" Bobby said.

"Absolutely. I promise."

There was a round of goodbyes then, and Ray reacted on autopilot, shaking a rigid Mr. Drakes and a trembling Mrs. Drakes hand and muttering something that had to have been the right phrase, that or nobody had listened. The Drakes were focused on Bobby, and Mr. Drake wrote the number of Neela's cell down for if he wanted to get in touch. Ronny stayed back, for which Ray was grateful when he got into motion, feeling like he was staggering towards the door although he could hear his boots steadily on the parquet. Neela was herding John outside and a moment later, they were on the porch, moving towards the car.

Neela was at his side, reaching for his arm as they moved. It was weird that it didn't make him flinch. "What's wrong, Ray?" she asked in a low, urgent voice. "You seem altered. I've never seen you act like this."

"Me neither," Ray muttered, trying to chase that terror away that had loosened when they'd left the house, but not by much. He needed to _run._

"Have you ever been treated for an anxiety disorder? There aren't any meds you should be on, right? I suppose you didn't have time to take any along..." Howard had flunked out of his residency for OCD, Ray suddenly thought. The day Neela had sold him a muffin.

"What's wrong with him?" John said loudly.

"Nothing is wrong with me," Ray managed. "I'm fine."

It was then that he heard Jean calling his name. Raising his head in befuddlement, he saw her hurrying down the sidewalk, a hooded figure huddled in an oversized cloak trailing after her.

"John, follow the street to find the jet," Jean said, sending the boy off without looking at him twice, eyes focused on Ray. "Neela, I'm Jean Grey. Scott told me all about your visit on the phone. You don't happen to be a psychiatrist?" She smirked unhappily when Neela shook her head, moving carefully to reach for Ray's shoulders and search his face. "I brought Kurt to teleport you to the jet if you want," she said gently. That was weird, these two women, of all people, clinging to him.

"Who's Kurt?" Ray said, flinching away with a grimace when he felt her probing his mind.

The pressure of the intrusion amplified as if refusing to be thrown out, then stopped abruptly when she retreated.

There was a weird flash in Jean's eyes but it vanished as well.

"Let's try a grounding technique," she said firmly. "Tell me four things you see."

"I see a meddling telepath," he muttered weakly.

"Hello. I am Kurt Wagner," the cloaked man was saying to Neela, moving to lower his hood in the corner of Ray's eye. "Please don't be afraid of me."

Neela screamed.

* * *

Neela was remarkable, Ray thought in a daze, looking at the clouds rushing by outside the window. He didn't think there were a lot of doctors at Chicago County who would have been ready to accept that America's most wanted shouldn't be off in a prison. Even if Wagner looked like a nice guy, really. Lots of cool body art. Wagner had been drugged when he'd been made to attack the President, but not with Valium.

Ray was on Valium. Jean had insisted. Spending all night driving to Boston couldn't have helped his stress levels, she'd said, and he should rest on the flight instead later when they'd probably play at being X-Men and attacking people. Killing them, too, if they had to. She hadn't said that, but Ray had filled the blank.

He was good at that, killing people.

Now he was hunched in a seat in the jet's little medical bay, unwilling to lie down. Impossible to tell how long they'd been in the air, and he hadn't asked where they were going. At least Neela and Jean had stopped asking him questions.

The door opened. Jean stepped into the room, cautiously perching down next to him. Ray turned his head to face her. "Hey there. How are you doing?" she asked softly.

"Peachy." He smirked at her. "I think you over-medicated me."

"I think you have the drug tolerance of a little girl."

Answering his look without flinching, Jean's lips twitched.

"I think Neela is a little hurt because you made her wait outside," she whispered as if she were sharing a secret.

Just served to confuse him, though. "I did?"

"You seemed to find her presence unsettling, yes. You were a little agitated about it." Jean smiled. "She seems like a very nice person, Ray. We've been having a conversation during the flight. I'm a little envious of how smart she is." There was that honest warmth in her voice that Ray always found so bedazzling. How Xavier could think that a woman like Jean would ever lose control of strong powers, Ray didn't know. "I'm glad you've found someone like her. I remember your girlfriends in college." Jean made a face. "If you could call them that."

He snorted. "We're not dating."

"You aren't?" One of her eyebrows wandered upwards.

"No," he said slowly, because it was all very obvious. "She went away to marry Michael Gallant." And to fuck Tony Gates on a desk. _I could have fucked her on a desk,_ Ray thought, feeling hazy. Surely _that_ hadn't been the issue.

"She feels very strongly about you, you know. I think it scares her a little."

"How'd you figure that?"

Jean chuckled at him. "Telepath, remember?" Crooking her head at him, she softly covered his hand in hers. "It doesn't take that to see it, though, Ray. She's head over heels for you, and she'd be so good for you. I'm certain you'd be good for her, too. Promise me you won't chase her away."

Ray frowned, still thinking of being interrupted by Marines with tranqs. _There's always something. Heh._ "Why do you think I would?" It was Neela. Neela was great.

"You made her leave you alone just now, remember, loopy one? That's not how you get close to people." Jean good-naturally patted his hand. "I wish I could say we'll continue this conversation once the drug is out of your system, but both you and I know that you'll find ways to avoid that. So I'm going to let you get some more rest. Storm will want me to take over the controls."

Watching her leave, Ray eventually turned to look out of the window again. They were so high up. If he wasn't too lazy to bother, he thought he might have gone and thought about his dad, or about Chicago, or about other things he preferred to ban from his mind at every other time.

He thought it was a good thing that Jean had gone and joined 'Ro in the cockpit, because there was a military fighter plane showing up right next to the jet.

* * *

Nobody expected her to do anything, but Neela felt hyped up from the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, hyped up and wide awake, like the coldness of the night couldn't touch her. It annoyed her to notice white-haired Ororo Munroe giving her a look of approval when she jumped up from her place at the fire abruptly to go and help John with the tents. He shouldn't have to do it alone, and it might help in keeping him out of trouble. After the day she'd known John Allerdyce, Neela already had a feeling that somebody should always be in charge of that.

Especially now that a US military missile had almost crashed their plane, and the only thing to stop it from hitting the ground _mid-air_ had been an old man who had courteously introduced himself as Magneto. America's most feared mutant terrorist. Who just happened to have been in the neighborhood after escaping from the safest prison in the world. Then, he'd been informed that Neela was human. She might as well have ceased to exist in his world.

Neela shuddered. John was working away quietly, face suspicious and defensive. Even the prospect of giving her orders on what to hold and what to do had left him unenthused - she didn't know anything about building tents, but it was better than sitting around feeling stupid while that woman Mystique smirked at her.

"Bollocks. I think I cut myself," she muttered, unhappily looking at her hand covered in dirt, tent post forgotten. In the middle of a Canadian forest, no tetanus shot available. "John, you wouldn't happen to carry a Kleenex, would you?"

Hair adrift in the breeze, John looked at her as if a seventeen-year-old carrying a tissue was about the stupidest assumption imaginable. Pressing his lips together, he went back to straightening the canvas, muttering something that was carried away by the wind.

Neela frowned. "What did you say?"

John's face hardened. "The name is Pyro," he repeated louder, daring her to object.

Neela paused for a moment, unsure. "Alright..." she tried.

There was an unreadable expression on John's face when he looked away.

 _Ray said the children at the school are throwaways,_ she thought. If there was one thing she'd learned about John at the Drakes' house was that he'd never before seen any such house from the inside. The only legal minor present, he'd found himself surrounded by two terrorists with superhero names, a history teacher who everybody addressed by call sign, and the man whose search warrant was currently flashing over every American news channel - introducing himself, with no small amount of pride, with his stage name on top of his regular one. _The Incredible Nightcrawler._

Involuntarily, her eyes moved to the jet, the place where Ray was currently holed up. _Threshold,_ Munroe - Storm - had called him once, but he'd snorted at her.

Maybe it was because he'd already found a way of expressing his otherness in his music and his clothes.

Maybe it wasn't.

In any way, Neela suddenly found that she liked how the school had taught this boy Pyro how to show off what he was, of finding pride in an identity that made him the other. Human or not, it was something that she'd always wished she could be better at. Something she'd always admired about Ray, too.

Her eyes wandered back to John, who was pointedly focusing on the tent. To him, she was the enemy.

"What's your power, Pyro?" she asked cautiously.

His eyes flickered at her face.

"I control fire," he said.

"That sounds rather dangerous."

His lips quirked derisively, and he moved towards the bag of the next tent.

"There's the medical bay in the jet," he said after a minute. "Dr. Grey keeps stuff in there."

Neela smiled. "Thanks," she said. "I'm set."

* * *

Neela paused on her way up the ramp of the jet when Jean called her name. When she turned to see the older woman approaching, Jean was smiling, but it was an empty polite smile, worn and tired from a fear Neela could barely imagine. Actually, she could, she suddenly realized, thinking of the day two officers had shown up in the E.R. and she had just refused to believe them that Michael was dead. It was strange to think that she had something on this woman. And to think of Michael's death in those terms.

Scott wasn't dead, for all they knew, just missing, but nobody here was in denial about what that probably meant. Both Jean and Storm had spent the day working themselves up into hardened battle-ready soldiers, the lines of veterans etched in their faces.

"We've finally been able to reach Logan," Jean said. "He had to hike out of range to make sure that the radios wouldn't pick up the call. The students are held at a military base underneath Alkali Lake, in British Columbia. He has agreed to wait for us, but I'm afraid he'll run out of patience if we don't hurry." She sighed, as if there was history between her and Logan's impatience that she didn't even want to start dabbling into.

"What about Scott? Does he know if he and Professor Xavier are there?"

Jean rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Logan said he saw transports arrive, but, we don't know. The children have to take priority."

Scrunching her face in sympathy, Neela wished she could think of any comfort to offer.

"Anyway," Jean said. "We're launching at dawn. Alongside Magneto." That one seemed to be giving her a headache. It certainly made Neela's chest grow tight, because... _Magneto._ "Have you spoken to Ray?"

"I was just on my way to check on him. He hasn't left the jet all evening."

"Yes, Storm and I thought it best to keep him out of Magneto and Mystique's line of sight for now. Magneto and Ray..." She grimaced unhappily. "There's history. Not a bad history, all things considered, but not the kind I want Ray to confront tonight." After a moment of hesitation, she added, "I'll leave briefing him on the situation to you. Just remember we'll need him to be combat-ready tomorrow."

Horror crept up within Neela. _Michael,_ she thought involuntarily. Michael had died in combat when he'd never even been supposed to take part in a fight, except Michael would have fought on the _other_ side in this and... god. "You want him to _fight_ alongside you? When he's just come out of an episode like that?"

"We can't afford not to." Jean sighed, brushing hair out of her face. "Ray is a full alpha mutant and a trained X-Man, Neela. In a fight, he is a weapon. I know this isn't what he wants for himself, but with Magneto in the picture, Storm and I will need somebody we can trust. I don't even want to know what Stryker is doing to the students."

And to Scott, she didn't say, but it was written all over her face when she looked away in distress. _Well, that's what happens if you go to war,_ Neela thought, suddenly angry. _People die. Your husband was kidnapped and he'll die because..._

...because of absolutely no fault of his. Her anger died just like that, replaced by a terrible coldness. Munroe had explained to Kurt Wagner what the X-Men did, and they _didn't_ play at war - they tried to _avoid_ one - it was nothing like Michael going off to fight it out in an _oil raid._ Alpha mutants were in the greatest danger of being persecuted, and they were all so _scared._

She was just so relieved that Ray didn't want to be any part of it. This situation they were in now, that was one thing - there were _children_ in danger and family and friends. But it wasn't what he'd ever want out of his life, Jean had said that, everything Ray had said and done today had screamed it at her, and she was just so relieved. She could deal with the situation, somehow, but she could never have handled that attitude again.

 _It's not like in a movie, either,_ she thought. _They need to attack now, because now they can. A day later, maybe they can't._ That much she had gleamed from Jean and Storm's conversations with Magneto. This William Stryker, who hated mutants so much, had a serum to control mutants. He'd used it on Magneto, who was said to be one of the most powerful people on this planet. Magneto had dropped hints about how Stryker had done something to Logan once, as well, years ago, and now he had a group of little children in his base.

He had used Wagner to attack his own President and start a war, that was how much he hated them. It was unfathomable to Neela how anybody could hate anybody that strongly. Even she had no argument against Jean's line of reasoning, not after everything they'd gone through already. It all felt so desperate.

"Ray is a good man, even if he tries his hardest to hide it," Jean said, trying for a chuckle. "There won't be a doubt on his mind about coming along. Not with Scott and the Professor gone. He'll know that we don't have a choice."

One last tired smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, and Jean had walked off into the night towards Storm, Mystique and Magneto, making plans for the raid at the fire.

* * *

It took a moment to spot Ray, who was lounging in the pilot's seat. When Neela walked up to the cockpit, she saw he was stroking alongside the control board as if brushing away dirt. The weird thing was that he wasn't looking like a boy who'd sneaked away to play pilot in the cool fast plane, the way she would have expected Ray to look in a cockpit just a week ago. He looked like he knew where to put his hands, where to rest his feet. Like in the school's infirmary, he made an impression that he belonged - like Michael in uniform.

 _But he belongs at the E.R. too. Michael never did._

"What are you doing?" Neela asked quietly, not wanting to startle Ray, and still worried after today's events. Cautiously, she sat down on the arm rest of the co-pilot's seat, enough space left between them to show that she didn't mean to intrude. It made butterflies flutter in her stomach, being closer, but right now, she just longed to see Ray be alright.

It seemed to be working. He crooked his head, engrossed in his thoughts. "You know what kind of jet this is?" he asked casually, leftover sedative leaving his voice very even.

Neela snorted a laugh. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

Ray smiled without warmth. "It's a Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird," he said. "Those were in use in the Air Force for over thirty years and they're the fastest manned air-breathing jets in the world. Now, official records are gonna tell you that there were only ever thirty-five of them around to start with, but that isn't true - they made a round, neat three dozen. The Professor has friends in high places, though." His smile transformed into a grimace. "I doubt that there's still a single record about this one around, and I'm pretty sure nobody remembers."

Neela frowned, unable to understand what he was getting at. "Jean told me that the Professor is incredibly powerful," she offered.

" _Jean_ has no idea how powerful exactly," he breathed, alluding to yet another thing Neela didn't get but didn't feel qualified to ask about. But Ray shook his head slightly. "Anyway," he said. "You wouldn't believe what kind of bitch a Blackbird is to maintain. She'd have a whole crew taking care of her in the Air Force. I don't know if Scott and Hank ever stopped her from leaking fuel in the hangar, but it's near impossible to land her in the field without damaging something. Drove both 'Ro and me crazy. The only one who can do it reliably is Scott."

Neela swallowed hard. "You know how to _fly_ it?"

That was the first time Ray turned his head to look at her, quirking an eyebrow. "Occupational perk of the X-Men," he said dryly. "'Ro and I learned together during college. I don't have a license officially, if that's what you mean, but yeah. I know how to fly it."

Again there were too many questions to ask, too many things she didn't know. Neela paused, helpless, overwhelmed by how everything she'd believed she'd known about Ray had changed with a snap of a finger - again. First he'd suddenly been a mutant, now he suddenly was an X-Man, one of those people you heard about on the news although nobody ever had pictures, and for all she knew, Magneto had taught him to fly. It was dizzying, too, seeing him sitting in that chair like he belonged.

But, also learning Ray was suffering from something that bloody well looked like post-traumatic stress. One of the strongest, most independent and self-assured people she knew, coming apart at the seams when god knew what horrible memory was replaying in his mind - _that_ was hard to picture, so much harder than the idea that he'd wear an X-Men uniform tomorrow.

Keeping a tight rein on himself at the Drakes', there'd still been sweat forming on Ray's forehead and his face had looked so haunted - older and younger than he was at once.

Nervously, Neela wet her lips. "But you didn't stay with the X-Men in the end."

"No. I quit when I went away to med school."

"What made you do it?"

Ray rubbed his eyes tiredly before he answered. "I grew up," he said finally, like it didn't quite matter, then snorted about his own words, and any leftover similarity to Michael trembled and shattered. "Scott was in knee-deep from moment one. 'Ro and I, we weren't that much younger and we had the right kind of power, so everybody expected that we'd want to go along. It was just what everybody did during college." He looked out of the front window. "Great power and great responsibility, my ass," he muttered.

Not like Pyro, Neela thought - not like Michael, Pyro, none of the mutants she had met. Ray had never been one to carry anything with pride - with the exception of his attitude, his band. His mutation, in particular, just seemed to fill him with anger, as if he was trying to make it so that it had nothing to do with him.

As if he wished it had been his mutation and not him that had shoved Tony out of his way at the wedding - such a tiny little incident, it suddenly seemed, compared to military attacks and jets hovering in the air. So ridiculous how everybody had overreacted to it.

County seemed incredibly far away.

Shifting her weight on the arm rest, Neela suddenly felt nervous. "What happened at the Drakes' today, Ray?" she whispered. She had to ask. She couldn't _not_ try to help.

Because he was Ray.

The drugs had left him cool and composed, drained in a casual way, but now he stiffened ever so slightly, eyes moving across the cockpit controls.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that."

She rolled her eyes. "I think you are the one who shouldn't have to deal with it," she said, a maybe too-accusing undertone in her voice, but what was she supposed to say? "It's a very serious condition, Ray. I can't believe you were mental enough to pull through med school without ever getting treatment." That had been one of the questions he'd answered when they'd tried to get a history out of him, before it had become glaringly obvious that he'd rather not have her in the room. Neela knew that having an episode didn't leave you rational, but that had still hurt. Even if it had probably been for a stupid reason like personal dignity.

"Well, it got miraculously better when I left the school, alright? I was alright. Everything was great. Before I fucked it all up and ended up with the X-Men again." He gave her an agitated look and Neela thought, he probably would have hit his head against the steering wheel if there had been one. _The X-Men, where I belong,_ was what he didn't say, but there was none of Pyro's pride or Jean's resignated acceptance in his words. He took a deep breath. "What do you suppose I tell a therapist, Neela? That I'm one of those freaks? Or that I'm losing my mind because I can't manage to forget the day..."

He stopped abruptly, breath shallow.

It was almost impossible for Neela to stop herself from lurching forward, alarmed that she might have misjudged the effect of the drug and that he might slide right back into another flashback. But slumped into the seat, Ray's whole posture screamed defiance - not losing his grip on the here and now, but just angry, probably at himself. The comparison with Michael had become openly absurd.

And seeing Ray's tight effort to stay in control of the situation made Neela ache. She'd seen him do it before, too, just hadn't known what it was she was seeing. He _hadn't_ been fine in Chicago, not entirely, and he shouldn't _have_ to do it like this.

"Forget what day, Ray?" she asked tentatively.

"The day I killed my father," he said, voice threatening to flip.

There was a beat when none of them moved - Neela didn't know how to react, no words came to mind whatsoever. Then Ray took a deep breath, moving to lean his elbows on his knees and lower his head, rubbing his neck in a gesture that made him look utterly lost.

"Oh god..." Neela breathed, so many different emotions flooding her at once.

As he had told her, Ray had been fifteen when he'd come to Xavier's school. And if Jean Grey, who was a telepath, hadn't known about his condition, Neela didn't doubt for a second that he'd never talked to anybody else, either - he had the power to keep people out, she understood. That was twelve years of never thinking of it, never acknowledging that it was there.

She took a trembling breath.

So did Ray.

"My father found out when the school called him," he said. He didn't have to explain what he'd found out. "I hadn't bothered hiding it in school. It was one of these things, you know? Way to show off for the girls." His chuckle sounded shaky. "It hadn't even occurred to me that the teachers would care enough to call my parents. I hadn't thought it through."

Automatically, Neela reached out to - touch him, maybe, or take his hand. But he wasn't looking at her and didn't see, and she stopped in mid-motion, retreating her hand. The impact of his words was just too enormous. "What did he do?"

"He beat me up, of course." It came out flippantly, but Neela still swallowed hard. There was an assumption in that answer, one about how the world worked, that told Neela things she would never have guessed. Ray's grimace was pained as he struggled for words. "Mom stayed out of it. She always did. It wasn't like... It was just something he did, but it had never been bad. Not abusive. Just a little rough, you know?" But he was rubbing his arm, an unconscious nervous gesture, and looking off into space. "But that day, he... I thought he'd kill me." His breath hitched. "He told me he would have killed me the day I was born, if he'd known..."

His voice died, as if he'd abruptly run out of air and as if, maybe, there'd never be enough air for those words. Now, Neela reached out anyway, despite herself, taking hold of his arm, his biceps hard like Magneto's steel.

"It wasn't your fault," she heard herself say, because mutant or not, she'd seen this one play out in the E.R. often enough to know where the story was going. Though normally, it was the sons who were brought there, face swollen and ribs broken and wheeled off to surgery sometimes with ruptured spleens. "None of it is your fault, Ray. You were defending yourself. You were a child, you had no way of controlling..."

"I had _perfect_ control of it, alright?" Ray said harshly to the side, though he didn't move to throw off her grip, so Neela firmly kept her hand where it was. "I know that's what they like telling you, what the Professor keeps saying, but it never worked like that for me. So I... I..." Again his voice threatened to die, but agitation won out. "I told him I'd kill him. I pinned him to the wall with a force field. It was a _perfect_ force field," he breathed, as if it had been the first time he'd created such a thing of beauty in his life. He swallowed convulsively, face pale, words rushing out of him. "He, he cracked something. I think it broke his skull. He was bleeding... so much blood... and he couldn't have done anything to me anymore, I could have let go, but I ... I didn't... I couldn't... I just didn't."

A moment of wavering silence, and Ray slumped into himself, everything about him so lost, voice small and scared like that of a child. "I felt him die, Neela," he whispered. "I can't do it without touch, but I guess since he was my father..." His voice broke. "I don't know why I couldn't let go... He was so scared... And the professors showed up, but he'd been injured too badly and he coded in the ambulance..."

"Oh Ray..." Neela breathed, in motion already, crossing the distance to slide onto his lap, arms wrapping around his wide shoulder frame. It was all she could do, having to be closer, a mad wild instinct to protect him and absorb all that pain like there was no other place she'd ever have to be. "It wasn't your fault. You shouldn't ever have had to go through that..."

A shudder ran through Ray's body, a half-hearted attempt to flinch away. But for once, there was nowhere he could go, and a second later, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, his hands sliding across her back with a strange resilience, feeling all the more intimate for it. Neela made a soothing sound, placing her hand on the back of his neck to hold him close.

It pained her that the man she was in love with should be in so much anguish, but there was a strange sort of relief to hold him this close. This was where she belonged, Neela thought, not at Michael's side and certainly not at Tony's. This was what she'd hoped to find when she had come - the real Ray buried underneath all his secrets - and while this wasn't what she'd expected, it was still worth taking a side in the X-Men's mutant war. Maybe Michael had been right in that way. And Ray deserved someone with whom he could dare share his secrets. Somebody who wasn't like him and still was okay with it.

For once feeling no hesitation, Neela pressed a soft kiss against Ray's forehead, holding him still. She knew he couldn't be further from using any of his powers right now, but she swore she could feel a force field wrapped around them, keeping them close.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The wave of pain hit him out of nowhere, washing everything away._

Stryker's base had been built directly underneath Alkali Lake Dam. Mystique had long since vanished in the spillway, taking the shape of Logan to give Stryker a reason to let her in. There wasn't any doubt that she'd be able to open the hatch for them. But Ray couldn't help having a look at the real Wolverine, perched on the ledge above the spillway corridor along with them, face hard. He looked pissed, eerily focused, and it was glaringly obvious that he hadn't just come here to save Rogue - he'd also come to settle a score.

Neela had stayed behind in the jet alongside John. It was good to have her there, Ray tried to remind himself, because she could take care of the injured if Jean or he... couldn't. He'd still rather have left her behind in Boston, though.

And speaking of Jean...

Their eyes met across the decimated group of X-Men. Hers were wide and scared and alert. It was a damn irony, Ray thought with a snort to himself, because he knew exactly what she thought - that he shouldn't be here. He should be anywhere but here, preferably at a hospital getting professional help. The same thing he was thinking about her, doctors thinking exactly alike.

Ray had never had a chance to talk to Jean, hadn't wanted to do it on-mission on the off-chance that Xavier was right about her powers. He'd wanted to talk it through another time with Hank, too, but there had never been time to even do that. There hadn't been a chance to finish studying all the problem.

Truth was, a power that lit up MRIs like Jean's did might be exactly the thing to save them all today. The kids were out there, likely dying. Cyclops and the Professor were in the hands of a man ready to use them and their powers. The X-Men might just be the last thing standing between the world as they knew it and the all-out war that Lehnsherr had always threatened would come. If Jean really could be that powerful, maybe she could make the difference. All that had happened was too much even for Ray to tell himself that it had nothing to do with him - _Scott_ was in danger out there, Jubilee and Rogue, the kids whose health he'd agreed to make his responsibility. Concerning himself...

Ray smirked, trying to loosen the collar of his uniform, which was itching. It was Scott's uniform, of course, leather clinging to him tight in the wrong places and not tight enough in others. He was sure that Xavier, meddling old man that he was, had stored away a uniform that fit Ray's every measure somewhere, but that place hadn't been the jet.

His was an alpha mutation, he firmly reminded himself. Professor Xavier had always said so, as had Magneto back in the Danger Room days. There _was_ a place in his mind where he had stored away his training, the attack on the mansion had shown that. Now he just had to make himself remember what he could do. All he had to do was allow his powers to come loose just for once.

Even if the thought of doing so scared the living hell out of him.

Logan jerked around first, staring down the corridor. A second later, they heard it themselves - the opening mechanism of the spillway hatch, going into screeching motion. Storm had her hand at the earpiece, likely listening to Mystique calling in.

"She's good," Logan said.

Magneto chuckled. "You have no idea."

"Let's go," Storm said, and they did.

* * *

There were soldiers waiting for them in the foyer in front of the control room. Ray had his hands up immediately, force field materializing and pushing hard - maybe to stop Magneto from doing something unbelievably stupid, maybe just to prove to himself that he could. There were muffled grunts, and skulls and guns cracking when all of them hit the walls at once, but they fell like dead meat.

"Huh," Logan said, quirking an eyebrow.

There was a _bamf_ when Nightcrawler teleported across the room and knocked one of the soldiers out with his foot when he tried to get up.

"This hatch is twenty inches thick, if you believe it or not," Magneto remarked, stepping up to the entrance of the control room. "Excellent Canadian craft."

Ray had retreated to the rear next to Jean to look out for more soldiers. Now he turned to give the old man a disgusted look for the serene smile he donned when he moved forward, commandingly wiggling his fingers - and the hatch broke out of its joints with a roar.

It revealed Mystique, turning her chairs at the controls to them with a smirk. Looking for all the world like Homer Simpson at the power plant controls, Ray thought, then shrugged off the obscure comparison and followed Jean and Storm inside, happy to let them take the lead.

"Eric," Mystique just warned, and as soon as he walked into the room, Ray heard what she had meant to point out - a deep throbbing hum starting to vibrate through the walls from deep within the base.

"Isn't that..."

"Cerebro." Jean wet her lips. "They have rebuilt Cerebro."

"So Stryker has the Professor under control," Ray said.

"Whatever he wants him to do, it can't be good," Storm said, looking at Nightcrawler, who couldn't know anything about Cerebro. "Cerebro has been built to amplify the Professor's telepathy. He could kill all of us with a thought from in there. We have to act fast."

"None of my business. I'm going for Rogue," Logan said. Then, sharply turning his eyes at one of the security screens - it was showing an elderly officer and his entourage turning a corner, probably Stryker, "And then I have some personal business to take care of." And gone he was, thin-lipped Jean looking after him.

"A large portion of the energy of the dam has been diverted..." Mystique said, unimpressed, calling up a map of the base on a monitor in search of Cerebro. She pointed at a room. "Here."

Magneto turned without pause. "Come. We have little time."

"Not without us." Jean followed him without further ado. Ray threw Storm a question and went into motion as well when she nodded an affirmative. The others would be enough to take care of the children; Nightcrawler could teleport any of them to Neela onto the jet if they needed immediate medical attention. But if the Professor was under Stryker's control - god - the mere thought made Ray shudder. Back in the day, all it had taken for him to stay the hell away from Cerebro had been one hint by the Professor that an empath might be able to use it as well. But that just meant that he was perfectly aware of what it could do. 'Ro was right - if fancy struck him, Xavier could get rid of whoever had ever looked at him the wrong way, all at once.

That was _exactly_ why Ray thought nobody should be allowed control over that kind of power, ever.

Jean and he were hurrying after Mystique and Magneto who were moving down the hallways with the surety of those at home even in a military base. Magneto was wearing his impossible helmet, the one to protect him from telepathy, and while the two of them could have moved faster than him, he still had the most reliable power to move through an underground military base - disarming any soldier before Ray took them out swiftly with the same kind of force field he'd used against Gates.

But something was wrong here. Ray felt himself growing more anxious with every hallway they entered. Something was terribly wrong, because there should be more soldiers coming at them. Security of the base had been broken, intruders and what amounted to terrorists with super powers had flooded the place, and nobody was coming after them at all.

If Stryker thought there was no need for anybody to fight them...

"Down!" Jean barked and before he could think, something - Jean's telekinesis - had pushed him off his feet. Rolling off by instinct, a red blast thundered past him with the speed of a train, exploding into sparks when it hit the wall.

Picking himself up, Ray looked up just in time to see Scott - Cyclops - moving towards them with perfectly level steps, hand casually on his visor.

"Scott!" Jean shouted, but there wasn't a reaction.

 _Oh god._ The serum. If they'd managed to control Xavier with the serum, of course it meant they had drugged Scott as well.

Ray rolled away in time when another blast pierced through the room, pushing a massive crate against a wall, impact shaking everything.

"I'm taking care of him!"

"Wait!" He got to his feet, stopping Jean from stepping into Cyclops' path. Nodding at the space Magneto and Mystique had occupied before deciding to let them deal with this one on their own, he drew on his psionic powers, letting them flood him in preparation of letting them break loose. "We need you to take care of Cerebro. You can't let them get to the Professor first."

Almost unable to break her eyes away from her fiancé, Jean gave Ray a fleeting look, already moving. "Take care of him," was all she said before she was gone.

Ray hardened his face, readying himself.

The problem with refusing to explore your powers was that it put you at a pretty major disadvantage if you went up against Cyclops, longtime leader of the X-Men.

On the other hand, Cyclops was altered in a major way - and Ray really didn't want to die.

His force field was up the moment Scott reached for his visor again.

This wouldn't be fun.

* * *

"That's it."

"Where do you think you're going?"

Listening to the battle unfolding over the radio, Neela had startled out of her trance when Pyro had jumped out of his seat, reaching over to hit a button.

She jerked around at the screech behind her - the jet ramp descending.

Pyro had pressed his lips together. "I've had enough," he said. "I'm going in there. I'm tired of this kids table shit, I want to fight."

"Are you _bonkers_?" Neela managed to catch his sleeve when the teen passed her by. Jerking away violently, he turned to glare at her. "You can't just go _in_ there! You couldn't even make it to the spillway without a uniform! We're in _Canada_ , it's _freezing_! And what do you suppose you do once you get in there, without knowing where everybody is and without back-up?"

Rational arguments were the last thing Pyro wanted to hear, quite obviously. "I don't care! I'm not going to let them go on pushing me aside. It's easy enough to follow Magneto, I just have to follow the metal he..."

Neela stared at him in disbelief when realization dawned. "You want to go with Magneto!"

Anger blazed up in Pyro's eyes.

"Have you bloody lost your mind? He's on the run from the _government_ for being a _terrorist_..."

"What would you know about it? You're just a fucking norm."

Neela set her jaw. "What I _know_ ," she said pointedly. "is that you'd throw away your _life_ , _Pyro._ _Think_ about it for just a minute. You couldn't do _anything_ with your life anymore. You couldn't go to college, you couldn't get a proper job, you'd never have a chance to change your mind again. If you do this now, this is _it._ If mutants should get equal rights tomorrow, you'd still be on the run from the FBI, hiding because of one stupid mistake!"

The young man's stance wavered.

It might just have been the force of Neela's words throwing him off rather than her arguments, but Neela had dealt with a crazy patient too many to not recognize an opening when she saw one. They all just wanted somebody to tell them what to do very firmly.

She pointed at the seats. "You'll sit back down right away," she ordered. "And you'll close the damn ramp." Everything was covered in snow out there. She was bloody well freezing.

Waiting with her hands on her hips, she didn't move until he'd followed through.

* * *

 _Magneto left a barricade behind so that I can't follow him to Cerebro,_ Jean projected. _It's going to take a moment to get through. How is Scott?_

 _Kicking my ass. This is a really bad time to chat, Jean._

There wasn't an answer. Ray clenched his teeth, arms raised in front of him protectively, while the full force of yet another blast poured down onto his shield relentlessly. Cyclops in this altered state wasn't the same brilliant tactician from the X-Men, but he was still fast, and strong. Ray always had been fast, as well, but he'd never tested his force fields to the limit. Xavier had said he could be just as strong as Storm - he hadn't bothered checking.

It looked like today would be the day to change that. With all power Ray could muster, he threw the shield away to the side, redirecting the blast along with it. He flinched when it hit the wall again - _Scott could level a mountain with those blasts,_ he'd told Neela, and he hadn't been kidding. But Scott's head turned towards him sharply when he tried to close the distance between them - knock him out up close - finger already on his visor.

"Scott! Cyclops!" Ray barked at him, desperate. "It's Ray, goddammit! The good guys! Most of the time!"

No reaction. The next force field was up, meeting the blast, feeble attempt to push it back towards Scott. No avail. The makeup of Scott's power was different from Ray's - Scott's blasts just kept coming whenever he opened his eyes, never tiring out. But Ray's power was in his mind, requiring focus, and his arms were trembling from the strain.

 _You'll win if you stay calmer than the enemy. Draw on your strengths._ The voice in his mind sounded suspiciously like Magneto's, so many years ago. Well, this robotic Scott didn't remember how to get angry or panic, but. _Scott's dumb as fuck in this state. He's taking aim and firing, that's all._

Ray had trained alongside Scott, so many years ago. Annoyed like hell about the prissy little dick, who'd keep his cool when Ray flipped and then outwit him in a fight, laughing at him smugly once Ray was down.

Trying to ignore the sweat on his forehead, Ray's eyes skirted through the room. He'd never be the tactician Scott was - never had _wanted_ to be - but this was maybe just the situation to change his mind on that front.

Eyes falling upon a bunch of crates, he hardened his jaw. _Let's see if I can even do that._ It had been years since he'd attempted building two force fields at once. Xavier's insistence that he keep working on it had been one of the things to finally drive him out of the school.

Grunting when he threw off the blast yet again, Ray's other hand was up, thrusting the force field at the crate with all the power of his mind and sending it reeling towards Scott, the other field dissolving only when the blast crashed into the wall.

Channeling dizzying amounts of power with ease.

Scott didn't even have a chance to look before the crate hit him.

He was thrown to the side, sliding over the ground - knocked out cold.

Ray's hands dropped to his side, heaving breaths threatening to crack his chest. The crate had rumbled to a halt, the rain of debris dying down. He forced himself into motion, limping over when the spasm in his limbs refused to resolve right away, kneeling down next to Scott to check him out for neck injuries.

 _I hate this,_ he thought helplessly even when he couldn't find obvious indicators.

 _Ray,_ Jean said in his head.

 _I took him out,_ he projected back. _No signs of spinal injuries or broken bones so far. I don't know how badly I concussed him._

A surge of relief flooded him, Jean's emotions spilling over, absorbed through the link by his empathy. _I'm almost through, I think Magneto..._

The wave of pain hit him out of nowhere, washing everything away.

Blaring white light and excruciating agony exploded in his head. The ground was coming closer, and Ray suddenly felt dirt under his palms, desperately starting to clutch his head.

There was no way of fighting it with his mental shieldings - those were just washed away, tsunami unreeling everywhere. It was Siryn's gift, like her excruciating piercing scream - except that it was in his head.

Somebody was screaming - _he_ was screaming - and faintly, through a dying telepathic link, he could feel an echo of the same pain but within Jean, writhing on the floor.

 _Killing all the mutants._ There was no doubt about it. It wasn't even a thought, Ray just knew. Stryker. The Professor. Cerebro. Targeting mutants - all mutants. Solving the problem, once and for all. The ultimate consequence of mutant opposition, at least theoretically what Ray had routed for himself...

 _I'm dying,_ he thought - pushed into death by an agony beyond bearing.

...it sucked.

The pain stopped.

Just gone.

Reality was suddenly back. The sound of his harsh breath filled his ears, racing heart, fingers digging into stone tiles, at his hair. Dirt and mold in his mouth, and Ray spat out, coughing, trying to come back to his senses.

His mind was empty, the connection with Jean interrupted.

Next to him, Scott groaned.

Turning his head, Ray saw the visor starting to glow when he opened his eyes.

Fear overruled fear.

Ray had lashed out and clutched Scott's throat before he could think.

Scott made a desperate choked gurgling sound when his emotions drained into Ray.

 _Confusion. Panic. Too weak to fight or move, but having to act, because people were in danger, something was wrong, people who needed protection and someone he'd trusted trying to..._

Ray jerked away, catching himself on his elbows, slumping down.

Scott coughed. "What the hell was that for?"

"Just making sure you're not Stryker's puppet anymore."

"What's going on?"

 _Magneto's reversed Cerebro._ Jean's voice suddenly rang through his head. _It's not targeting mutants anymore, but everybody else._

Ray froze. _Neela._ Neela waiting for them back in the jet, writhing in agony, dying...

He had a terrible vision of County, patients and doctors - Abby, Kovac, Morris - holding their heads and screaming...

 _I'm going in,_ Jean announced.

 _How the hell do you suppose you do that?_ If the control room had had twenty inches of metal to protect it...

 _I think I... can just blast it open._

MRI scan blazing like a rock festival. Powers, not accessed yet, but ready for the taking, and the only person who knew what would happen if they were, controlled by a serum that none of them even understood. Controlled first by a paranoid and crazy human, then by an equally paranoid and crazy mutant. Because neither of them - neither Stryker nor Magneto - had the guts to do the dirty work in person. Xavier had at least manipulated Jean's mind himself.

Ray hardened his jaw. _I need you to stay in contact throughout._

"What the _fuck_ is going on, Threshold..." Scott said, and instead of answering, Ray just grabbed his hand again, allowing his own power to let the telepathic link seep over, allowing the other man to take part. Human relay board.

Jean didn't answer. She just opened up the link further, smooth and broad like it was nothing.

The scene changed. Looking through Jean's eyes, Ray found himself stepping into what looked like the Cerebro he remembered, except unfinished and differently lit. Smoke was dissipating from a hatch broken out of the angles and melted - _oh god_. A little girl standing on the end of the platform where the control panel should be, turning towards Jean with a bright smile.

Jean smiled back without any warmth at all.

"Let him go, Jason."

The girl crooked her head. "Who are you talking to?"

Jean's voice reverberated through the chamber ominously, spoken and projected words at once. "I know you, remember? Don't think you can fool me, Jason. Let go of the Professor. This is your last warning."

Blinking and trying to clear his head to switch back to the present of the hall, Ray glanced at Scott. "Who the hell is Jason?"

Scott grimaced; he was obviously in pain, his words a little slurred. "William Stryker's son. Creates telepathic illusions. Charles tried to help him with his powers some years ago, but... he was too far gone. Stryker developed that fucking serum out of Jason's spinal marrow."

It looked like he wanted to say more, probably that they had to get up and get to Jean, but they were already sucked back into the connection. Too strong - her telepathy was just too strong.

There was something weird about Jean. She was herself, but with an edge, something else seeping in.

"I know what you are," she said. She raised her hand, turning up her palm. "I know everything about you. Show yourself." She closed her hand into a fist. "And let him go."

The illusion melted away. The girl was gone, Professor Xavier sitting on Cerebro's controls instead of her, back turned to Jean - slumping into himself when he lost consciousness.

Ray heard his own body hitch a breath of relief.

Neela.

A wheelchair had materialized, another man sitting on it, dressed in what barely passed for a patient gown. Haggard like a starved man, dozens of incision scars ran down his neck and arms, veins showing brightly. His hands clutched around the arm rests of his chair, his eyes were fully focused on Jean. The real Jason.

Jean's voice was entirely ungiving.

"You'll never make him proud, Jason," she said. "He'll never let you be his son, because you have always been a tool to him. Let me take Charles Xavier."

There was no sign that Jason had even heard.

"Let me take him," Jean said. "You think you're doing this for your father? The same man who would kill you in a heartbeat..."

Something icy ran down Ray's back, balance viciously knocked out of him.

The world jerked when Jean focused on him with violent concern, the link transforming his mind into an open book to her for once.

Just like that, she closed the link.

"What the..." Ray muttered, fighting off his latest flashback with pure force of will.

Scott seemed to be having trouble to focus. _Head injury,_ a part of Ray's mind noted faintly. Hopefully just a mild concussion.

"She cut you off to protect you."

Fuck. _Fuck._

"She shouldn't be using her powers unsupervised."

"What are you talking about?"

"She's still letting you in? Stay with her. Start... talking to her if she stops sounding like herself or something."

"What the..."

"Just _do it._ " Ray opened a connection on his earpiece, mind racing too fast to wait for the answer. "Storm? What's your status?"

Storm sounded breathless, but she answered without hesitation. "We're getting the children out. Meet us at the jet."

"Copy that."

He checked back with the X-jet next, waiting for excruciating seconds until John finally - finally - answered, timid voice confirming that both of them were fine again.

Now they just had to get out.

The back of Ray's head hit the crate behind him with a thud when he leaned back. He took a deep breath. Jean was loose somewhere in the guts of the base, nobody there to have her back when god knew what could happen to her, and it hadn't looked like the Professor would be in any state to stop her if he even came to in time. And there was nothing Ray could do about it but pray.

His senses hypersensitive from the adrenaline and fear, Ray suddenly grew aware of a faint rumble all around them, one that had replaced the hum of Cerebro.

One that sounded a lot more ominous to him.

His eyes drifting upward in dread, they automatically found the cracks Cyclops' optic blasts had left in the walls.

They seemed to have grown.

 _He could level a mountain if he took off those glasses._

He didn't lose time when he scrambled to his feet.

"Scott, we need to get out. Now."

"What's going on?"

"Yeah well." He took a breath. "I think you broke the dam."

* * *

It was all a frenzy when they reached the jet. The children were crowded inside, crying or huddled in shock, flinching away from the adults. Logan was looming next to Rogue - who was pale as a ghost, soothing a little one in her lap - his shirt in bloody shreds. Storm was powering up the jet. It took Ray a moment to spot Neela, crouched next to Jubilee, checking her pupils, while John was stumbling out of the medical area carrying band-aids.

"Thank god you're alright," Neela breathed, suddenly curled against his chest. Ray wrapped his arms around her, breathing in her scent and allowing the feel of her body to wash over him.

He jerked around to Jean coming in sight on the ramp, too, face smeared with dirt and on edge even when she hugged Scott. A dangerous glint in her eyes when she focused on Xavier, trapped in a passenger seat without his wheelchair.

Oh damn.

Ray swallowed hard.

"Status?" Storm shouted across the noise in the jet.

"Ready to launch," Jean shouted back, suddenly all herself again.

"We need to check out the children." Neela was talking to him without letting go. "Most of them seem to be unharmed but some have minor injuries, and I'm worried about shock. You should go look at Professor Xavier..."

"Scott has a concussion," Ray added, distracted.

"We have a problem!" Storm shouted. "The jet won't launch!"

"Have you tried..." Scott, making his way to the front, had to catch himself on a seat against a dizzy spell, groaning and touching his head.

The roar of the breaking dam in the distance grew louder, ominously looming in the distance.

"No time," a voice said behind him.

Ray jerked around to see Jean staring off into the distance.

Then she turned, abruptly, a wave of her hand reopening the ramp.

Ray disentangled himself from Neela.

"Where..."

"No time," Ray repeated Jean's words at her but with more fear. "Stay here."

Then he was off, following Jean outside onto the snow-covered valley before Alkali Lake.

It was still dazzlingly bright out here, snow reflecting sun a thousand times. The dam was hovering at a distance, and Ray grew cold from fear when he saw it had broken. Truly broken, chunks of stone breaking apart and galleons of water thundering out of it, massively rolling towards them.

It was just a matter of moments before it would wash away the jet.

"Jean!" he shouted, feeting sinking into the snow as he struggled to catch up.

She turned to look at him, pale and determined. "I'm the only one who can stop it, Ray!"

Ray's breath hitched. He knew her powers well enough, even if he'd never seen them unreeling like that. She'd need to stop the water, _and_ raise the jet in the air.

He'd made a promise to himself to watch out for her while those powers of hers were uncoiling, coming loose rapidly after her face-off with Jason, and transforming into god knew what even further. He couldn't let her go off by herself, sacrificing herself, for no reason but the Professor's behavior making her believe that she had to take care of problems on her own.

Just because he didn't like using his powers in full, didn't mean he didn't know how to do it.

His feet were moving on their own account.

"No, you aren't!" he barked at her through the growing roar of the water. "Help them launch the jet! Let me take care of the water! We'll do it together!"

Jean hesitated, but only for a beat. There was no time for more and she nodded, retreating and letting him pass her by, her calculating eyes on the bitch of a Blackbird now.

Ray stumbled to a halt in the aisle in front of the jet, staring at the surge of water effervescing towards him - enough to wash away a town. The force of it was blowing through his uniform, mussing his hair. There was a lump forming in his throat, but feeling out his powers, he thought he knew what to do. This time around, it would be a matter of sheer dumb strength.

No surprise he'd never had a problem controlling his powers. It had been _child's play_ when he'd used them before.

Gallons of water surging towards them, freezing the air and pushing forth a minor tornado.

"Ray!" Jean shouted, a weary presence at his back.

"I've got it!"

Steeling himself, he tried to take a position of maximum balance.

 _I've totally gone nuts,_ the man he'd been three days ago told him when he stared at the wall of water he was about to hold off. _Totally lost it._

A moment later, his force field was up - expanding and expanding more, shielding him and Jean and the jet on a scale that would have made William Stryker squeak in terror. A roaring electrical buzz started filling his ears, blocking out the thunder of the water. The strangest feeling coursed over his skin when it expanded further, his body exhausting itself with the glee of an athlete's legs finally allowed to sprint.

The body of water hit with a force reserved for natural catastrophes. Ducking away by instinct and pressing his eyes shut, Ray was almost on his knees, but the force field kept up. He clenched his teeth when it held steady, expanding it to protect the corridor the jet would need in order to launch. Water could spill over, or spill in from behind. _Make it grow._ Those physics lessons were coming in handy.

Engines roaring faintly behind him above all the other noise told him that Jean had lifted the jet in the air, Storm taking over at the controls once the chassis ceased to be the problem, and that the students, his friends and Neela were safely on their way home.

Blinking his eyes open against the pressure, Ray just caught the last glimpse of Nightcrawler - arms wrapping around Jean, then vanishing with a _bamf._

The smell of brimstone almost choked him when the blue mutant suddenly was at his side, body heat engulfing Ray when he was drawn in.

"Let go!" Wagner shouted into his ear, so Ray did, not even thinking about it. Loosening his grasp on the force field, he saw spraying water closing the chasm, rumbling towards them and--

 _Bamf._

They were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family is where they have to take you in, they say.

Neela laughed.

"I can't believe they really did that," she said. "It sounds so crazy to me. The White House was swarming with security after what Kurt did, right, but you just walked right in..."

"You remember how I wasn't actually present, right?"

"But I don't understand why you didn't want to, Ray! They _walked into the Oval Office_! Right before the State of the Union address! I _saw that address on TV_..."

"And remember how I was sitting next to you..."

"And they just shorted out the electricity and _froze_ everything and talked to the President!" She took a deep bedazzled breath. "Just like that."

"Well, yeah, welcome to the X-Men."

But it was hard to keep up the cynical facade. Ray couldn't help his smirk transforming into a laugh when he looked at Neela, leaning at the balustrade and waiting for him to follow her onto the balcony. It was a beautiful day; this side of the wing hadn't been damaged all that badly, and the sun was illuminating Neela's face, all smooth skin and perfect angles. Catching up, Ray reached for the balustrades to the left and right of her, enclosing her. She smiled at him, welcoming him close.

"It was very nice of you to tell the Professor that he should take John along instead of you," she said, reaching for his shirt and wrapping it around her hand leisurely.

"Looks like he's a little more interested in a spot on the team than me," he said.

She shrugged. "He needs someone to tell him he can be a hero." Then she smirked, viciously. " _You're_ already _my_ hero."

"Aw, now you're just mocking me."

But Ray couldn't stop himself from chuckling, pushing Neela against the rail, using the chance to kiss her again. It was all he'd ever wanted, sharing this with her, being allowed to. Two days after Alkali Lake, it still felt like he'd never want to let go. Everybody was smirking about them in the mansion behind their backs, but Ray couldn't say he particularly minded.

Even Hank's whole face had lit up when he'd clued into the nature of Ray's relationship with this new acquaintance of the school. It gave Ray a strange feeling of warmth to observe how seeing him happy was making the people here happy as well. None of them got to take part in an awful lot of happy endings.

Though, Ray couldn't help but frown at the thought of Hank and why he'd come - no happy ending in sight yet on that front. Interrupting the kiss, he raised his head to look at the school's south wing across Neela's shoulder, his joy replaced by a chill. An hour after the State of the Union address, Hank had found himself called into the Oval Office, promoted onto the President's personal staff as an adviser on mutant affairs. Instead of taking up residence in his new office, though, he'd boarded a plane and come here the minute he'd gotten Ray's call about Jean.

 _It's what family is for,_ Ray admitted, the platitude still feeling novel. It might not have been clear to him before all this, but he now knew that if the school had ever called him to tell him that Jean - any of them - was sick and in need of his help, he'd have dropped everything and rushed here just like Hank - and screw what his colleagues would have said. Just like Xavier - despite everything - and 'Ro had dropped everything to come fetch him in Chicago just a week ago. It would have played hell on his anxiety levels, but he still would have come.

Now Jean was subdued by Xavier's telepathy, waiting for them to find a way to help her in a stasis chamber hurriedly built out of Cerebro's ruins by Hank.

It had been her own suggestion, once she'd understood what was happening to her - the Phoenix already waging war in her mind.

Meanwhile, Scott was refusing to leave her side, and even Logan was always lurking close, fierce protective instinct extended from one friend to the next - another one who'd given in to the pull of the school.

Ray hadn't noticed how his body had frozen until he felt a palm cupping his face.

Neela was looking at him, studying him with a focused dedication to the task of deciphering him that was new, and would feel like an intrusion by everybody else, but wasn't unwelcome at all coming from her, and right now.

"She'll be fine, Ray," Neela said earnestly. "I don't think I've ever met anybody smarter than her and Dr. McCoy. If they can't figure out how to treat her, nobody can."

 _That's not calming me down,_ Ray felt tempted to answer, but it was just too hard to resist her assuring tone of voice. Maybe it was true. Maybe everything would be fine for a change. It had been two days since the battle at Alkali Lake - since they'd prevented a war, since he'd dared max out his powers, since the X-Men had gone to have a little chat with the United States President, because sometimes you just had to take matters in your own hands if nobody else offered to do it for you. It seemed like everything was possible, if they just stuck with each other. If they just had each other.

His smile didn't feel all that forced. "You know, Jean said the same thing about you. And I think Hank is pretty much ready to marry you, anyway. He doesn't usually meet people who understand all his words." And countered with _questions._ Hank was in heaven.

The compliment made Neela blush, cheeks coloring ever so slightly, filling Ray with warmth.

Hank had told him he was _jealous,_ which was... really weird, actually.

'Ro had just laughed at both of them.

It made Ray a little dizzy, looking at Neela and knowing he was truly allowed to call her his.

"She'll be fine," Neela repeated softly, stroking his cheek. "You'll be fine, too."

Ray shuddered.

"Are you..." she began.

"I'm alright."

But his voice was just a little clipped and he couldn't look her in the eye during those words.

They both knew that he was lying. He was nowhere near alright. There hadn't been any more episodes like at the Drakes', and there hopefully wouldn't be any time soon, but that didn't mean that he was in health. He'd never been, he knew that now, especially not in Westchester where everything could be a trigger. He'd just been so busy hiding from everybody including himself that he had never had a chance to notice. Again, he'd been more comfortable not knowing for sure.

It would probably take a while to overcome that powerful instinct of retreating - of not having to deal. But Neela's arms were firmly wrapped around his waist now, holding him in place, where he belonged.

"Did you talk to Hank about it yet?" she asked gently.

Ray had promised both Neela and Jean that he would, asking Hank for support as a doctor now that Jean was out of commission. Professor Xavier - Ray didn't think he'd ever be able to go to the Professor with this, not after what had happened to Jean, not when Xavier's telepathy filled him with more distrust than the Professor probably deserved. But the X-Men didn't just consist of Xavier, and there were others he felt readier to confide in. That was one good thing about the school - so many different people waiting to help.

"Yeah, I have." Ray took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Neela and the strangely clean air of Westchester - nothing like Chicago. "He says he knows a shrink in Illinois. Hasn't worked with real patients since she was found out, but still has her license. She'd treat me off the record." With a shaky laugh, he added, "Having a mutant with PTSD on staff would be a little too much for the administration to take, I think."

"So you're really sure you want to go back?"

"Yeah." He leaned in closer, allowing more of her body to touch his. "I'm really sure." And whispering in her ear, "It's where you are."

The words made Neela vibrate, full-body shiver running down her back and arms, and her chest touching his sending a spark down Ray's own body. It wasn't the only reason, of course, and Neela knew that, they both knew, and that was the way it should be.

 _His life_ was in Chicago. Not at the school - not with the X-Men. That hadn't changed, only the reasons for thinking so had. Because Ray didn't need to run away from Westchester. He belonged here just as well, and he wanted to stay until he knew that Jean would be fine, he really did - until his help wasn't needed anymore in rebuilding the school. Then he'd follow Neela back, and they could come to Westchester to visit - to work on his powers, now that he'd felt them out, maybe not so much the force fields that were easy to control, but the empathy that wasn't. To make sure that everybody was alright, maybe to take the Blackbird out for a spin with Scott.

But Chicago was still the place he'd chosen for himself, while Westchester could never be that. Chicago was where he'd been working on becoming the man he wanted to be rather than what his genes had tried to make him despite the fact that he would never have wanted it. It was where he'd had a chance of being more than just his label for a while. That counted a lot - in a way that Xavier, Scott and 'Ro would probably never fully get.

Ray thought of the County E.R. anxiously, wondering how everybody would react. County was one out of only five Illinois hospitals with a pro-mutant staff policy now, but that just meant he wouldn't be fired. Morris had still scrambled away from him in terror. Kovac had eyed him like a threat. They'd all always been wary of him. That wouldn't change, but now, it would be hostility towards what he was, not the caution he'd prompted by his attitude. It had always felt good - it had felt _safe_ \- to be considered different, because he _was different_. Now, though, it would be the real deal - out of his control.

It would be ugly to go back, and be unable to hide. It would suck. It was a terrible idea, just like his original decision to leave Westchester and start a life as a human doctor had been, and it might turn out that it just wouldn't work.

However, fighting off the U.S. army and preventing the extinction of your kind gave you a little perspective on what you couldn't dare do.

As did holding the woman he'd been so sure he'd never have in his arms.

"I'll be there along with you," Neela said, as if she'd read his mind.

Ray strangely felt that he wouldn't have minded a lot if she had.

Neela was melting against his body, making an agreeable sound when he stroked along her back, pulling her in closer. She wouldn't leave again, Ray knew. The very same things that he had always thought would keep them apart - his mutation, his past and his fears - had just ended up tying them together for real. That was weird, but it felt right.

Faint and far away, students could be heard playing on the basketball court, shouts and laughter ringing through the air. None of the telepaths suddenly contacted them in their heads to alert them of danger, because there wasn't any for once. The sky remained clear. The muscle soreness from the battle had dissipated enough to be ignored for a while. It was time to let go.

"Can I..." Ray muttered when he leaned in, and Neela breathed a "Yes" against his lips that transformed into a kiss.

Skin touching skin and sharing all that body heat, Ray felt for the empathetic shieldings in his head he'd never touched except as a mean to keep everybody out. Hovering at their seams for a moment, fighting off instincts as old as his powers, he braced himself, and pushed, letting them shatter and melt.

Feelings started spilling over, filling his mind and tickling his spine.

Ray didn't flinch away, and let them in.

 **Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to millari for the beta.


End file.
